The Holocron
by Pirrouette
Summary: When Luke Skywalker is captured and interrogated by the remnants of the Empire, he must struggle for survival not only against the New Republic's enemies but against the Sith.
1. Code Emergency

Chapter 1:

* * *

A/N: This is a rewrite of my former story Enigma, published 8/11/06. The original version was betaed by Sithspawned - thanks, Sithspawned!

The story starts out light and humorous, but it gets quite a bit darker. The rating is for violence and torture in later chapters.

* * *

Luke Skywalker was actually a very good spy, but his acting talents had pretty much three settings. They were called innocent-and-naive farm boy, straight-backed Commander, and serene Jedi. He had those three down cold.

Unfortunately, none of them really fit into his current persona – a lowlife drug dealer aboard Drinn Loekai's smuggler ship. Still, even if his cover had nearly been blown by an old friend earlier that same day, he had still managed to salvage the situation.

But as it turned out, it didn't really matter. As Luke stepped around a bend in the hallway, he was forcibly jolted out of his thoughts by a shocking sight. So shocking, in fact, that he barely noticed the hulking mass of nerfhide and muscle that went by the name of Viin Nord, #37 on the New Republic's Most Wanted list strolling down the corridor. A mistake, as it turned out.

But it was her!

Luke froze, then regained his senses and lunged toward the woman. Before he could see her face under the shadows of her cloak, she whirled and tried to flee. Luke caught her arm, but she yanked it from his grasp. "Who are you?" he shouted after her.

He received no response but the muffled clatter of rapidly fading footsteps.

Then there was a jolt, and a warm, burning pain blossomed between his shoulder blades. Luke Skywalker belatedly turned around. Viin Nord, with a blaster. He was only beginning to feel the astonishment – that the smuggler had managed to surprise a Jedi Master – and then . . . .

* * *

There was a brisk knock on the door. "Enter," called out General Airen Cracken, head of New Republic Intelligence.

Agent Iella Wessiri and her former partner, Jedi Knight Corran Horn, obeyed.

"Sir, there's been a Code 4-7-446?" Iella asked. It wasn't really a question. Cracken had messaged that statement, albeit in more words, to her. Routine codes were typically numbered as an action-object-enemy. A Code 3-5-446 Emergency was Intel-speak for the capture of a high-ranking or important officer by Admiral Talinia's forces.

Ordinarily, Cracken would have insisted on making the system more efficient. But most of his agents enjoyed impressing civilians with complicated codes, and if the system was that popular, it could stay.

_I have to get recruiting numbers up somehow_, Cracken thought defensively.

"That's correct, Iella," he replied grimly.

"Who's been captured?"

"Commander Skywalker."

"Luke Skywalker! Airen, please tell me I've miscounted the time and it's Corellian Fools Day!"

General Cracken didn't even bother to correct Iella Wessiri's inappropriate use of his first name. Or chew her out at the mention of that repulsive holiday . . . in a fit of unCrackenlike behavior, he had forbidden anyone from doing so after that last horrible, horrible, incident involving Wes Janson, gelmeat, his Commenorian bolo-ball cap, and a holocam. _Especially the holocam_.

He winced, both at the memory and the words he had to say. "I'm not happy to have to tell you this."

Of all people, why did it have to be Luke Skywalker? This was the man who had faced down (and bested) both the Emperor and Darth Vader. This was the man who had blown up a Death Star as the founder and original leader of Rogue Squadron, who singlehandedly reestablished the Jedi Order a few years later. This was the hero that was admired and looked up to by quite a few sentient beings on the New Republic's side of the galaxy. And more than that, he was a symbol.

This on its own was not what was eliciting a somewhat melodramatic reaction from Iella. As powerful as he was, and as much as he would be missed, Luke _was_ only one person.

But the problem was, between diplomatic work (which even Jedi had to deal with) and all the confidential missions he had been on, he knew so many state secrets that Iella was getting a headache just _thinking_ about how much work this would mean. Not for the first time, she wished she had chosen to be a pilot. Or a commando. Or a garbage compressor maintenance worker.

There was another troubling thought as well. How much work would it take for NRI to figure out how they able to incapacitate Commander Skywalker? Luke Skywalker was a Jedi. And whatever Imperials said about him, Luke had not accomplished what he had through sheer luck. _Or at least, not _JUST_ through sheer luck . . . ._

Iella's mind snapped back to the present as she heard Corran ask General Cracken a question. "Sir, who else knows about this?" The information would have to be withheld from the general public as long as possible. _Not that the Imps going to cooperate with that idea for long_.

"Besides Wessiri, you, and me? I have the list right here. Chief of State Organa Solo, General Solo, Wedge Antilles, Booster Terrik, and your wife."

Corran sharply let out a breath. "You told Booster the _smuggler_? Booster, my _father-in-law_, the smuggler?"

"Actually, Booster and Mirax told us," Airen admitted, raising an eyebrow at Horn's accusatory tone. "Skywalker left Coruscant three standard days ago. He's not even supposed to return for at least another standard week. He ordered communications silence; he was infiltrating Drinn Loekai's organization."

Loekai was a notorious bounty hunter-turned-smuggler known for such ruthless business practices that not even accused "smuggler-loving" factions of the New Republic could ignore him.

"That's a dangerous mission," Iella said. "At least he's not Imperial. We have a little bit of time before this gets out."

"We're in a difficult position right now. We need to put together a team, and with every person we add, there's a higher chance of a leak. I'll let Booster and Mirax brief you on what they know in a moment."

Corran left, but Iella lingered at the door. "Sir, I have one more question."

"Yes?"

"I spoke with Commander Skywalker just a few days ago, and he seemed pretty set on taking a few weeks of leave." Iella paused, but Cracken remained silent. "How did you manage to convince him to go on another mission?"

Cracken grinned. "How do you think I did, Wessiri?"

"Honestly, sir, Commander Skywalker seems pretty unlikely to be meeting a secret lover on Mon Calamari, plotting embezzlement with the Nemoidians, or hiding a secret addiction to glitterstim. I just don't see how the normal blackmail tactics would work on him."

"You'd be surprised," he replied, remembering that time he had needed an escort for the Diktat of Corellia.

_Cracken had finally sighed in defeat. "Okay, Skywalker. I suppose I'm never going to convince you of the selfishness of your actions." He shook his head regretfully. "Go ahead and leave." Luke had been slightly suspicious at Cracken's giving up so easily, but still made for the door. _

_Before he got there, Cracken nonchalantly added a few words. _

"_You know, Luke . . ." Luke apprehensively turned back. "The tabloids might be interested to learn about this. Cracken whipped out a stack of photographs and spread them over his desk, all with a common theme. In most, Luke was shown passionately kissing (at best) a married holostar he vaguely recognized as Amber Jevanche. _

_Luke's jaw had dropped. "I've never even spoken to her, let alone . . . . You've got to be kidding me!" _

_Cracken shook his head kindly. "I'm afraid not. I had a tech edit quite a few of these, just in case you persisted in this thoughtlessness." _

_Luke had still been trying to comprehend it. "You can't just manufacture evidence saying I have affairs with holostars and then threaten to leak them to the public! And what does she have to say about this?"_

_Cracken had contradicted Luke with the air of explaining basic truth to a particularly naïve six year old. "Actually, yes I can. It's arguable as to whether or not holoimages constitute written defamation in our legal system, but it doesn't really matter. I'm allowed to leak false information to the press for the good of the New Republic. I've talked to Amber Jevanche, and she doesn't mind in the slightest. Having an affair with a Jedi Master would certainly increase her press time."_

_By that time, Cracken had been hiding a victorious smile. "Don't be too upset. You still don't have to leave for another two days." _

". . . Sir?" Iella interrupted his memory with a raised eyebrow.

"As a matter of fact, this time I didn't even need to persuade him," Cracken informed her virtuously. "Commander Skywalker was still recovering from the last guilt trip-slash-blackmail knockout."

* * *

Minna Arcasite glanced down at herself, checking to make sure that her blaster, her back-up-blaster, and her back-up-blaster-for-her-back-up-blaster (and so on) were secure. Of course, her professionalism didn't allow for the possibility of actually having dropped a weapon, but she confirmed it just for the record.

She was every millimeter the personification of death, destruction, and imminent distress she worked so hard to be, and the contemptuous glance she shot at the man in front of her would have put the Emperor to shame.

Luke Skywalker, the man that was the unfortunate object of her disdain was in fact unconscious and slumped against the cold metal wall. Still, Minna was planning on taking no chances. The paralyzing concoction that her partner, Viin Nord, had obtained on the black market was due to wake him up any minute now. Actually, they were due to wake him up half an hour earlier, but the dose they had prepared was calculated for a larger person.

She felt a sudden stab of annoyance at herself. Viin had certainly told her off for that. Well, she should have checked his weight, but who ever expected Luke Skywalker to be that short?

Minna eyed the chilled glass of water that she had poured herself a few minutes earlier, but hesitated. Sure, it would be satisfying, but Skywalker could wake at any minute without her help anyway.

She dismissed her concerns. Skywalker was bound and surrounded by yslamiri. What could go wrong?

Famous last words.

She picked up the glass of water, and threw the contents of the glass into Skywalker's face. Sure enough, something went wrong. She and Viin had not skimped on the ElectroCuffs 8000, illegal even in the Empire, that bound Skywalker securely and painfully to the wall. They were protected against blasters, lightsabers, vibroblades, electrojabbers, fireknives, and even thermal detonators (granted, probably not MULTIPLE thermal detonators) as well as any sort of lock pick, droid, or code slicer thought up by the likes of Nasdra Magrody to Bevel Lemelisk, and they delivered a series of highly painful electrical shocks at the slightest hint of resistance.

But apparently, liquids weren't very good for them.

They shorted out the very same moment that the icy water woke Skywalker, who barely had time to look up dazedly into the face of a swearing Minna Arcasite pointing a blaster at his face. She had a shocking repertoire of profanity, even considering the number of pirates and smugglers that she knew. But Viin was going to _kill_ her! The ElectroCuffs were worth their weight in vine-silk. Her only lucky break was that the cuffs had, in fact, shorted out rather than frying Skywalker.

Somewhere, the Force was cackling. Oh, she was going to sue those manufacturers . . . or she would have, if she hadn't bought them on the black market.

Minna made a mental note, written and signed in triplicate, to never, ever, use the words "what could happen" with Skywalker less than a light year away. Of course, Skywalker was worth _more _than his weight in vine-silk, so she was going remain calm, use another set of stun cuffs, and make sure that he didn't escape.


	2. The Holocron

Chapter 2:

A/N: Thank you so much if you reviewed last chapter, particularly if you reviewed it the first time around, too! You have no idea how happy you make me :)

* * *

Bounty hunter Viin Nord sank into one of the soft, plush, seats offered to him by D-1PO, one of the updated and enhanced (at least, that's what the advertisements said) Protocol Droid line. Although, in his experience, the more they upgraded Protocol Droids, the more annoying they became. This particular one had a combination of fussiness and pomposity so nauseating it should have been outlawed in every system inhabited by civilized life forms.

"Might I offer you a drink, sir?" D-1PO inquired politely.

"No," Nord answered curtly. He certainly deserved to celebrate— Skywalker had quite a large price on his head— but he wasn't going to blow this now by getting even mildly inebriated.

"Sir, we have any type of alcoholic beverage a being might wish for. Shall I bring you some Corellian Whiskey, perhaps?" D-1PO plowed on relentlessly.

"Were your auditory sensors not upgraded along with the rest of you, rustbucket? I said, NO."

"It would have been politer to accept our hospitality, you know," D1PO said, with more than a hint of malice coloring its voice. "But what should I expect from an ill-mannered bounty hunter like you?" He turned and minced out of the room.

Luckily for Nord's career and D-1PO's head, a bland-looking man wearing the rank insignia of a flight officer strolled into the room. "The Admiral will see you now," he said, a bit indifferently. "Follow me."

As he stood up, Viin Nord resisted the childish urge to make a rude gesture at the protocol droid, and instead contented himself with a final filthy glare over his left shoulder. That would be much better, considering the likely possibility that the room was being monitored. Even if no one besides a droid-hugger activist would give a womp rat about it.

The flight officer checked to make sure Nord was following, and the two turned into an impeccable metal hallway. Several twists and turns later, he paused and waved his passcard in front of a control panel. Nord could see that the opening door was nearly a quarter meter thick and had a slot on the top and bottom probably meant for a blast-proof security door that could slam down in case of emergency. Either by design or accident, the Star Destroyer's interior was beginning to look reminiscent of a fortress.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to turn over your weapons," said the officer.

Nord snickered.

"I'm afraid it's policy," he persisted.

"I can see you're not the brightest glowpanel built into the floor beneath the Admiral's feet," Nord commented. "The Admiral won't care about my weapons. I'm a professional."

Nord could see that the flight officer was still going to protest, but another, apparently higher-ranking man stuck his head out of the room and beckoned the two forward.

The room was dazzlingly lit. After his eyes adjusted a moment later, they took in a small, austere area with a rectangular table in the center. Seated at that table was a sharp-looking woman with pale skin and medium length dark hair. He presumed that this was the infamous Admiral Talinia, judging by the two bulked-up and heavily armed bodyguards standing behind her on either side. Harder to place was an obese red-haired man in the corner. _Must be an advisor._

She spoke in the tone of one accustomed to issuing orders and having them obeyed at risk of death and dismemberment. "I am Admiral Talinia. Sit down." Nord did so. "You have information leading to the capture of a highly placed Rebel officer?"

"I do."

"I'm impressed," said the Admiral. "That kriffing gravel-maggot Cracken tightened security after incompetents such as Zsinj were a _bit too conspicuous_ about their infiltrations. Imperial Intelligence had never recovered from Cracken's crusades."

Nord smiled tolerantly. "Well, you're going to be even more impressed when you hear that I've got Luke Skywalker on my ship."

With any other client, he might have been concerned that they might steal his ship and he could forget about ever receiving the bounty. After all, what kind of people wanted the galaxy's biggest goody-goody gone?

But large organizations such as the Empire and New Republic could typically be considered reliable, since they would probably need to hire bounty hunters in the future. Also, Talinia would have a keen appreciation for the man who captured Luke Skywalker. The loss of the New Republic's precious hero, a dip in their morale, and endless interrogation possibilities all in the capture of one man. True, Skywalker didn't know everything about the New Republic, or even close to everything. But still, the Death Star was destroyed by one proton torpedo. Perhaps he had one crucial piece of information Talinia could learn.

Talinia silently started praying. "Alive or dead?" Emperor's black bones, she would even pray to that accursed Jedi witchcraft if it got her the right answer.

Nord paused, just to see the Admiral sweat a bit. "Skywalker is alive, of course. Bounty's higher that way."

Talinia nearly cheered...until she had the most alarming thought of her entire life. "Wait a second," she breathed in abject horror. "Did you say that Skywalker is alive and alone on your ship?" She began to have visions of a huge smirking cartoon Luke Skywalker standing on a pile of stormtroopers. As disturbing as that mental picture was, the small white stormtroopers were admittedly quite adorable. War-hardened as Talinia was, she nearly started crying as she saw the animated Luke Skywalker wave cheekily at her as he left a ruined _Starkiller_ behind, and faded off into the distance . . . .

Nord looked vaguely affronted. "Of course I didn't. My ship is crawling with yslamiri. My second in command has a blaster trained on him as we speak. Or rather, she has a blaster trained on his unconscious, drugged, bound, form."

Talinia still looked a little worried. Nord felt compelled to reassure her. She was about to pay him an exorbitant amount of currency, after all. "He'll be fine." That was a very slight stretch.

Oh well, Skywalker was still _relatively_ undamaged. The drugs would wear off eventually.

Talinia looked relieved. She beamed. It was quite a bit like looking at a gundark the instant before you, your family, and the surrounding metropolitan area disappeared into its jaws. Nord did not envy Skywalker one bit. "Well then, if you would be so kind as to give me your account number, the bounty will be paid in full." Talinia turned to one of her bodyguards. "Call for some backup so we can remove Skywalker from the ship."

The bodyguard nodded. Nord took out his account number.

* * *

Chief of State Leia Organa Solo had allowed them the use of her own Presidential lounge. Elegantly decorated in celadon green, it was furnished with chairs made of mahogany wood loosely arrayed in a semicircle. Abstract pieces of sculpture from Mon Calamari were artfully placed on slender transparisteel stands.

The air was heated to a comfortable temperature, and most importantly, it had been swept for listening devices and cleared by security.

Booster Terrik stood at the back of the room as he surveyed the group. Present were Wedge Antilles, Wes Janson and Hobbie Klivian, all three pilots. General Airen Cracken and Iella Wessiri of NRI were gazing into space silently, and Booster's own daughter Mirax was chatting softly with her husband, Corran Horn as they waited for the Chief of State and her husband, Han Solo, to arrive.

Leia finally strode through the door, Han following close behind. Booster could see she had something clutched in her hand, but he couldn't get a good view of it. He mentally shrugged as the two of them wordlessly took seats by the wall.

Mirax stepped to the middle of the semicircle. "One standard week ago, General Cracken asked me to infiltrate Drinn Loekai's organization. I was not incognito; I merely used my smuggler contacts to meet with Loekai and offer my services to him. I arrived at his ship for an interview. That's where I saw Luke. He was disguised, but I've known him long enough to recognize him."

Cracken spoke up. "Commander Skywalker was also infiltrating the organization."

Mirax nodded. "We briefly met that night, in my quarters, and he told me as much. But after I woke up the next morning, the ship was in an uproar. Luke and Loekai's best contracted bounty hunter, a man named Viin Nord, had both disappeared in the same night. I don't have to tell you what _that_ looks like."

Wedge Antilles frowned, and addressed a question to her. "Still, how do you even know that Luke was Nord's prisoner?"

"I did a little investigating. All of Nord's personal belongings had disappeared with him, but Luke's remained in the quarters he was assigned. That would suggest that Nord knew that he was going to be leaving, but Luke did not." Mirax answered.

He persisted. "General Cracken said that Admiral Talinia was the one to capture the Commander."

"Admiral Talinia has the largest bounty on him, so it stands to reason that Nord would deliver him to her. That was also confirmed by a tip we received a few hours ago; the same sum offered for the bounty was deposited into one of Nord's credit accounts. "

Wedge accepted this. "So what else do we know?"

Cracken winced slightly. "That's pretty much it."

"So what's the plan?"

"We have a few leads to follow up. The bounty hunter Viin Nord, for one. He probably won't return to Loekai, but we still know his account number. Admiral Talinia is another obvious lead. Eventually, she might contact us herself and attempt to negotiate with Commander Skywalker's life."

Cracken gestured at Iella. "Iella will lead the rest of you in this investigation, except for Booster and Chief of State Organa Solo, of course." He turned to Leia. "We told you and your husband as a courtesy. I will make sure you're kept updated."

"Thank you." Leia paused, and then spoke with uncharacteristic uncertainty. "I might have something that will help." She stood up and showed them the object Booster had seen her bring when she arrived. It was roughly rectangular, but Booster had never seen anything like it.

"This is a form of modified Jedi holocron technology. Luke found it on the planet Felucia, where the Jedi Aayla Secura was killed, and Mirax recovered it from his belongings on the smuggler base. A normal holocron records the words and images of a Jedi Master, and is usually only accessible to a force-user. This holocron is much more advanced. The writings that were stored with this holocron tell us that it combined Caamasi and Kiffu Jedi techniques. The Caamasi are able to share memories with others. When viewing one of their memories, you share their perceptions and thoughts. Kiffu Jedi were masters at psychometry, the technique of touching an object and detecting the impressions and the events surrounded it. The last Jedi of the Old Republic found a way to combine these technologies— don't ask me to explain how. It was empty when Luke found it, but he figured out how to put his own memories into the holocron and access them again. He found it useful because memories that were stored in the holocron only show you a person's direct thoughts, but not their perceptions. Or in other words, you see things more from the perspective of an outside viewer, without your former feelings coloring the memory."

"That's very interesting," said Janson. "Does it also work as a Jedi radar?"

Leia gave him an annoyed look. "I don't know how, but I can feel that this is the key to . . . something. Probably finding Luke. I know that Luke couldn't possibly have had time to record the memory of however Viin Nord attacked him, but perhaps they can answer some of the questions we have."

Personally, Booster had no idea of how Skywalker's memories were going to help them. Sure, it would be great to access the memory of Luke's disappearance, but he obviously didn't have a chance to store that particular memory in the holocron. He could still sense a "but" coming from Leia, though.

"The only problem is," Leia began, "It's not like the memories are labeled, so I don't know which ones to view. And there are hundreds of memories in here."

_That's the _only_ problem? _Booster thought. He looked politely befuddled. "So Leia, you're telling me that you have a feeling that a randomly picked memory of your brother's, recorded by archaic Jedi technology, probably from before he even met Viin Nord, is going to tell us how to find him?"

Leia flushed slightly, but stuck to her blasters. "Well, the memories are _mostly _in chronological order, so I'm not likely to pick one from a year ago. But in essence, yes."

Booster reminded himself that Leia was the sister of the man who had literally blown up the Death Star with his eyes closed. Her feelings might actually be right . . . and she must be serious. She didn't really have control over intelligence affairs, but she was also the Chief of State and could probably take vengeance on Airen Cracken in the form of a budget cut. Airen could take death threats from Imperials any day and laugh in their faces, but the mere mention of a budget cut was enough to make him grovel at Leia's feet. Really, the man had no shame.

Apparently Cracken was thinking the same way as Booster, because he replied, "Well, we don't have all that many leads to begin with, so I don't see any harm in trying that as well. Perhaps all of you could pick a time to meet for that? Now if you'll excuse me, I have quite a bit of work to do." He exited before the dreaded topic could come up.

* * *

A/N: I promise to not wait too long between updates (it's already mostly finished, so I have no excuses!). College is my life now, *sigh*.


	3. Undercover

Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter is one of my favorites; hopefully you'll enjoy it!

Thank you, Forever-Luke, Wings90, Cosmic Balance, and Arya of Ellesmera for reviewing this chapter :) Your reviews definitely made my week!

* * *

Ten minutes later, Minna Arcasite had everything under control. She reviewed her mental checklist. Skywalker secured, blasters and other deadly weapons within reach (hers, not his), and no water in sight. Okay. It was time to begin OIDS, also known as Operation Intimidate and Demoralize Skywalker.

Luke Skywalker actually wasn't looking very intimidating himself right now. Not only was he disarmed and bound, he was looking rather dazed. The drugs still hadn't completely worn off yet, nor were they likely to any time soon. He was also soaking wet (the glass had been almost full) with a large bruise was forming underneath his left eye from where Minna had struck him with her blaster. She didn't want to chance the possibility of a stun reacting badly with the drugs. Naturally, head trauma was much safer.

Minna decided to put OIDS into action. She stood in front of Skywalker and put on her best I-kill-candy-pink-pittens-without-a-second-glance-so-don't-mess-with-me glare. He gazed up at her, but didn't exactly look petrified with fear.

Hmmm . . . either the drugs were still interfering with the self-preservation part of his brain, or he got death threats a lot. She suspected it was probably both, hence the start of Operation Intimidate Skywalker.

"Skywalker," she hissed menacingly. "You're now my prisoner. If I see you so much as look at my blaster, I'm going to shoot you with it." Skywalker didn't dispute the fact. Minna reached into her pocket and took out a list with a piranha smirk. "Now, I know that you're my captive and entirely at my mercy, but that's no reason for you to be bored." Skywalker was starting to look nonplussed. "I made a fun list that I'm going to read to you. Maybe you'll have some suggestions for me?"

Skywalker was really beginning to look concerned now. He probably didn't love the idea of being in the clutches of an armed bounty hunter, but an armed bounty hunter psychopath could be worse. Much worse. Good, she wanted him as off balance as possible.

"This list is titled '100 reasons why it's better to bring your bounty back dead than alive.' Skywalker gave her an incredulous look, but Minna ignored him.

"Number one. Dead is better than alive because ammunition costs less than torture devices.

"Number two. Dead is better than alive because it's more moral to kill a prisoner than it is to bring him to Admiral Talinia.

"Number three. Dead is better than alive because it's more fun to blast sanctimonious Jedi into oblivion when you know they're actually going to stay there.

"Number four . . ."

* * *

The lights of Conference Room D-29 were dimmed slightly, reflecting the secretive nature of what was occurring inside. Wes Janson and Hobbie Klivian were sitting at the table and plotting. Or to be more precise, Wes was plotting, and Hobbie was attempting to talk him out of it.

The first stage of Wes's plan was to win Hobbie over to his side. He was loudly reminiscing about the last prank he had conned Hobbie into helping him with, to reawaken the sparkling sense of fun that he knew was hiding under Hobbie's gloomy exterior. "What about last Corellian Fool's Day? That was great! Don't you remember the look on Cracken's face when the possessed gelmeat scuttled out of his Commenorian bolo-ball cap?"

Hobbie didn't look anywhere near convinced. He was quick to retort, "Well, don't _you_ remember the look on Commander Skywalker's face, right before he assigned us three weeks of kitchen duty? And don't you remember that night we invited ourselves to have dinner with him, and he threatened to take away my favorite blaster if I didn't make you behave? I'm still worried that he's going to remember that threat."

With the decreased Imperial activity, Luke was able to re-take command of Rogue Squadron on occasional missions, when he was not busy doing mystical Jedi things.

Wes made a dismissive gesture. "Oh, Commander Skywalker can usually take a joke. Especially when it's not played on him. Besides, _Wedge_ is in charge of the Rogues at the present. _Wedge_ isn't dating Cracken's daughter right now, and he therefore is not as concerned about staying on Cracken's good side as Luke was. And by the way, that whole thing was obviously a biased and unjust abuse of authority."

Hobbie looked at him incredulously. "You're saying that Luke was _abusing his authority_ by punishing us for tampering with a superior officer's personal possessions?"

Wes chose to ignore that question. "So, are you in?"

Hobbie still looked doubtful. "I don't know, Wes . . . who was the one calling Wedge Commander Straight-Corners? Do you really think that he's going to be lenient on us? And besides, do you think it's appropriate to be playing pranks when Luke's just been captured by Imperials?"

Wes gave Hobbie a patronizing stare. "Don't be ridiculous, Hobbie. I'm sure that Luke doesn't want all of the enjoyment to leach out of the world just because he's absent for a little while. And Commander Straight-Corners is only uncompromisingly rigid in _important_ things. Wedge knows the value of fun as well as anyone else. Besides, Luke and Wedge hate Cracken. Why? He'll never let them go on leave. Doesn't that prove to you the veracity of what I'm saying? Besides, you're assuming we're going to get caught. Don't be such a Msstian fog."

Hobbie remained unyielding. "I didn't know that you knew what veracity meant. You have the emotional age of a six year old."

Wes was impressed. Hobbie was trying to stall him with an insult war? They were making progress. "I'm sorry, Hobbie, but that's not going to work." Wes gave a theatrical sigh. "You're either with me or against me."

Hobbie looked incredulous. "Haven't you been listening? I'm against this whole thing!" At least Hobbie wasn't threatening to tattle to Wedge yet.

Wes considered threatening Hobbie with the water blaster that he had stashed under the table, but he didn't trust Hobbie not to run off while he crawled under there. He tried one last time, with a wounded air. "Hobbie, I'm not going to lie to you. Yes, we might receive a small chastisement—" Hobbie snorted at that point— "IF we're caught, but if avoiding kitchen duty is all you care about, you'll never achieve any form of greatness."

Wes turned away. "Well, I'll leave you to wallow in the mundane drudgery you call life. Goodbye, Hobbie."

"But, Wes. . ." Wes turned back, raising an eyebrow. Hobbie looked torn.

Wedge Antilles chose that moment to walk though the door. Wes groaned, and Hobbie looked supremely relieved. It was already time for the Chief-of-State's meeting. Wes had no idea how holocrons worked or what Leia Organa Solo was going to do with hers, but she had ordered them to be there. All of them.

"Something wrong, Wes?" Wedge asked.

Wes replied sweetly, "Of course not, sir." Blast it, Wedge always ruined everything. Officers tended to.

Wedge looked more than a little bit disbelieving as he took a seat. "Are you sure?"

Wes adopted a tragic expression. "I just can't seem to hide anything from you, Commander Antilles. The truth is, my dear Aunt Eludia has Jervallsnick's Gland Disorder. Hobbie was just telling me that _his_ grandmother died from it nine years ago."

His face changed from grief-stricken to reproachful as he looked hard at Hobbie. "Thank you, Hobbie. I really appreciate the _comforting _and _encouraging _words that you have chosen to share with me today."

Wedge seemed to buy that. Wes wondered how people as gullible as Commander Antilles (and come to think of it, Commander Skywalker before he had the Force) ever made it up the chain of command. But then, he also wondered how Cracken was so gullible as to leave his favorite bolo-ball cap out on his desk.

Wedge asked innocently, "Could you give me her HoloNet address? I would love to send her my condolences and well-wishes. Your family is my family, Wes." Oh. Maybe Wedge wasn't that stupid after all.

Wes was spared the necessity of an answer when the door opened again.

Booster and Corran appeared to be deeply involved in a heated argument about the freshwater use trends on Corvis Minor, of all things. Booster was forcefully jabbing the air as he ranted about icebergs, but Corran was disputing Booster's speech just as emphatically. Mirax looked at them in annoyance as she sat down across from Wedge. Booster and Corran sat on either side of her and continued to shoot death glares around her head.

A frowning Iella Wessiri wandered into view. Wes smirked as he saw Wedge sit up a little straighter. But his snickering was cut short. Wedge covertly shoved him off his chair (well, as covertly as was possible considering he was shoving someone off a chair) and offered it to Iella, who accepted it with a smile, while Wes scrambled to hide the water blaster.

He discreetly placed it under Hobbie's chair, then picked himself up and crawled out from under the table to come face to face with Han and Leia Organa Solo. Han gave Wes a strange look. You would almost think that he didn't see veteran X-Wing pilots skulking under furniture much.

For revenge on Wedge, Janson pulled over a chair and forcibly interposed it between Wedge and Iella. Wedge and Iella both scowled at Wes, but couldn't say anything.

Leia sat down at the head of the table, with Han at her immediate right. She held up the holocron. "Here's how it works. Only a Force-user can access it, but I can share the memory with all of you by touch. We're going see the viewpoint of a third-person observer, but we'll be aware of Luke's thoughts. Now, everybody has to hold hands."

Before he was sucked into the memory, Wes's last thought was that it all looked rather like some form of absurd séance.

_**On Drinn Loekai's base of operations, a ship called Lacrimosa, Luke Skywalker was waiting in a small lounge while one of Loekai's lieutenants gave him a background check—the most nerve-wracking part of any infiltration. Of course, the lieutenant wasn't checking for criminal activity but for government ties or other threatening connections as well as verification of basic paperwork.**_

_**To prepare for the mission, Luke had dyed his hair jet black and tinted his eyes metallic silver. His features were partially obscured by a complex geometric tattoo in gleaming emerald ink that wound its way down the left side of his face. He was also wearing a nerfhide leather vest that he suspected General Cracken had lifted from Han Solo's own wardrobe. **_

_**Of course, the real clincher was that everybody expected Luke to be more menacing. Amazing how much taller one tended to appear with an ignited lightsaber in hand.**_

_**The lieutenant returned. "Everything seems to be in order," he said, slightly grudgingly. This was certainly an odd one. Smuggler types weren't typically the ones so painfully eager to blast someone out the airlock for incorrect paperwork. "You can take up temporary quarters in room B-08 tonight. Someone will notify you tomorrow morning what time and where you'll have your interview." He paused, and added, "Go right out of that doorway and take a left at the second hallway."**_

_**Luke nodded briefly, and was about to step out of the room, when a woman came face to face with him. It was a person that he did not expect to see— Mirax Horn. He quickly rearranged his stunned expression into something less conspicuous, but not fast enough. **_

_**The lieutenant asked Luke, "Do you know her?" He sounded more puzzled than suspicious— so far.**_

_**Unfortunately, the only thing that popped into Luke's head was to hit on her. Corran was going to KILL him, Jedi Master or not. He gave Mirax an intense stare. "Are you from Iego? You must be an angel." **_

_**Mirax looked dumbstruck for a moment, and then beamed. "Maybe," she smiled suggestively, "You cuold come and figure it out . . ." Luke could have grinned. Mirax certainly was sharp.**_

_**The lieutenant looked pointedly at the ring on Mirax's finger. "Aren't you married?" he asked. **_

_**Mirax shot him a dirty look. "Mind your own business." She turned back to Luke, and they exited together.**_

As they were pulled back out of the memory, Janson saw Corran stand up, irate. "I can't believe Luke . . . Luke . . ." he sputtered.

Mirax gave him a quelling look. "We were acting, you know," she reminded him. "Remember when you kissed Erisi Dlarit to keep Kirtan Loor from noticing you?"

Corran looked back at her, shocked. "Luke _kissed_ you?!"

"No! Well, maybe a few times, just to make sure his identity was safe . . ." At Corran's horrified look, she relented. "Of course he didn't."

Corran looked slightly mollified, but only slightly. "I kissed Erisi _before _I was dating you. How do you know about that, anyway?"

"Well, you weren't dating _her _at the time either. Winter told me."

Booster interrupted them. "Was this memory useful in any way?"

"Not yet," Leia admitted. "But the next one might tell us something important."

"How many are we planning on viewing?" Janson groaned.

Leia reached for the holocron. "We have time for at least a few more."

_**Luke Skywalker made his way back from Mirax Terrik's quarters with a smug smile on his face. The two of them hadn't **_**done **_**anything, of course (except talk) but it did add authenticity to his story of being a lowlife drug dealer. He happened to glance at his reflection off the shiny metal hallway, and gave up. **_

_**Luke was actually a very good spy, but his acting talents had pretty much three settings. They were called innocent and naive farm boy, straight-backed Commander, and serene Jedi. He had those three down cold. Unfortunately, none of them really fit this situation. But as it turned out, it didn't really matter. As Luke stepped around a bend in the hallway, he was forcibly jolted out of his thoughts by a shocking sight— even more shocking than seeing Mirax. **_

_**There was a slender cloaked form, perhaps five paces from Luke. It was having a whispered exchange with a hulking mass of nerfhide and muscle, unmistakable, even at profile, as Viin Nord. While it was odd enough to have seen #37 on the New Republic's Most Wanted list just ambling through the hallway, even at a smuggler base, that wasn't what shocked Luke most.**_

**It was her!**

_**She was turned away from him, but he **_**knew. **_**He didn't know her name, or exactly who she was, but he recognized her. There was that same fusion of ambiguity and purpose and not-quite-malice that made up her Force aura. **_

_**He had seen her dozens of times on Coruscant. Even her face, once. And he had known it was not chance. Her feelings weren't clear, but a great many of them had been directed towards him. **__**What could she be doing there?**_

_**Before he had time to try and puzzle out an answer to that question, she stiffened and turned. She saw him and motioned hastily for said criminal bounty hunter to leave. He gave her a meaningful nod and Luke a long glance, then disappeared around a corner. The woman faced Luke. The dark lustrous fabric of her cloak draped in heavy folds around her face, concealing her features. But he knew it was her. And he knew she recognized him. His cover was blown.**_

_**Luke regained his senses and took those few quick steps toward her. Before he could see her face under the shadows of her cloak, she whirled and tried to flee. Luke caught her arm, but she yanked it from his grasp. "Who are you?" he yelled after her. **_

_**He received no response but the muffled clatter of rapidly fading footsteps**_


	4. Strangely Convenient

Chapter 4: Strangely Convenient

A/N: Thank you so much to Forever-Luke, I Love Dance, Arya of Ellesmera, and Musings of Time for reviewing the last chapter!

Forever-Luke: Good point about the pittens! Princess Leia had a candy-pink one named AT-AV, so I think they're just the Star Wars equivalent of something small and fluffy :) I'm going to reword it right now so hopefully it will be clearer. Thanks for telling me!

* * *

". . . number one hundred. It's better to bring your bounty back dead because if you get caught, it's easier for your lawyer to get you jury sympathy for six counts of murder in the first degree than it is for delivering a prisoner to Admiral Talinia."

Minna Arcansite finished the list with a superior note in her voice. Luke knew she was probably enjoying the dazed look of disbelief on his face, even though it was just the slightest bit possible that the dazed part might have been caused more by the head trauma (courtesy of Minna's blaster) than his being overcome by admiration at her dazzling creative writing skills.

For his part, Luke was beginning to wonder when this oh-so-kind Admiral the bounty hunter kept referring to would grace the scene.

Minna resumed speaking. "And now, time for the next one. This list is titled '100 Things I'm Going to Do With the Reward Money From Your Capture'. I trust you'll find this one just as emotionally uplifting as the last." Minna punctuated the mood with a condescending sneer. "Shall I begin?" she asked rhetorically.

Luke unwisely decided to give her a few mental suggestions.

_Number one. You're going to buy a thousand credit's worth of stuffed animal Wampas, donate them to the nearest children's hospital, and get them to put a plaque there in my honor._ Did he just think that? Thankfully, he didn't actually say it aloud.

_Number two. When I'm pronounced dead by the New Republic, you're going to buy a Yoda doll, decapitate it, and throw it into my shiny new memorial fountain. _Luke wasn't typically one for dry humor, but he wasn't feeling very charitable toward her right now. His head was throbbing. And the stun cuffs crackled with electricity every time he so much as twitched an eyelid.

_Number three. You're going to buy the full computerized 1200 piece Rebels vs. Imperials action figure set and set it on perpetual autopilot, but the Imperials are always going to win._ Or, maybe it was some effect induced by whatever substance she had used to knock him out.

_Number four. You're going to buy the "Adventures of Luke Skywalker Coloring Book"_ _and you're going to have your niece or nephew color in all of my pictures with a shade of blue that doesn't match_ _my eyes._ Force, he had spent too much time around Janson lately.

Or around lunatic bounty hunters with one-hundred ways to make a prisoner miserable. And then some.

break

As Minna finished the list, she was treated to a full ten seconds of dumbfounded silence before Skywalker made an odd choking sound that Minna would have probably put down to horror and dismay had not Skywalker suddenly burst in to laughter. She scowled.

_She probably doesn't realize the imminent threat of being held prisoner and being interrogated by Admiral Talinia is amusing. _Actually, Luke didn't usually find it very amusing either. _What exactly did she drug me with?_

Minna had just affected a threatening disposition when the ship's entry door slid down. Viin Nord stepped through, followed by Admiral Talinia.

Unfortunately, he hadn't yet noticed the newcomers and failed to stop shaking with hysteria until Minna kicked him in the ribs. This action elicited a pained silence from Luke, an anxious look from the Admiral, and a glare from Viin.

This was turning out to be a_ great_ day.

* * *

Wedge Antilles blinked and looked around the room. The others sitting around the table appeared to be just as disoriented as Wedge was feeling. The notable exception was Leia, who had apparently perfected her trying-not-to-say-I-told-you-so look.

Corran shook off the dizziness and nausea and grinned. "Well, now we've got one lead." He evidently agreed with Leia.

"All we know is that Skywalker had a stalker. That's very useful." Booster said sardonically. "All X-wing jocks do, I'm sure. Even _you_ probably have one, Horn."

Wedge knew that Corran could never just ignore that insult. "Booster, I would have thought evena smuggler like _you_ would find it a little bit too _coincidental _that this stalker _purely by chance _just _happened _to be meeting with the bounty hunter that captured Luke which _happened _to be very shortly before he _happened _to disappear! And all this _happened_ to be after Luke felt her plotting against him."

"Horn, I thought a _smart _and _reliable—_" Booster spoke with a level of sarcasm Wedge previously thought unattainable, "—_CorSec _officer like you would realize that's quite a few assumptions. But even if we accept all of that as fact, how are we supposed to identify this alleged conspirator? All we saw was a cloak! Vocal analysis isn't going to kriffing work on the Force."

"Booster, Luke had seen this woman's face. If we find the right memory—"

"Then what, Horn? The population of Coruscant numbers more than a trillion. And who says she returned? How are we supposed to find her? She could be anywhere."

Corran looked about to form a scathing reply, but Wedge cut him off. "Booster, you're right. It is a long shot." Before Booster could rub it in Corran's face, he added, "But it's the only promising lead we have." _And besides, _Wedge added mentally. _We all know that you're only arguing about it because Corran views smugglers as swaggering drunks who steal candy from young children and Booster views CorSec officers as sanctimonious preaching know-it-alls who shove their mistaken beliefs down everyone else's throats._

Leia nodded. "It's still possible that one of us could recognize her. Luke doesn't exactly travel much around Coruscant. There's too much for him to do; he mostly sticks around NRI headquarters when he's onplanet. Now, shall we view another memory?"

Wes Janson groaned. "Your highness, if we view another memory, I'm going to throw up. Can we please take a break?" Wedge was feeling the world spin a little himself.

Leia considered this, and agreed. "I have to meet with the Committee for the Assessment of Education Standards anyway. Senator Fey'lya is going to murder me if I skip another meeting. Shall we meet again in two hours? Same place?"

Nobody voiced an objection. As Wedge was walking out the door, he heard Wes loudly ask Hobbie what he was doing with a water blaster under his chair.

* * *

It would logically follow that a good bounty hunter like Viin Nord would never choose an idiot for his partner.

The scene that met his eyes was inconceivable. He knew that Minna could be unconventional sometimes. That was an excellent characteristic for a bounty hunter. But what could possess her to keep the prisoner soaking wet, and even more worrying, laughing like a maniac? Honestly, the Admiral was going to think that they had shattered Skywalker's mind!

It was probably the overdose of kethtramine. He _told _Minna to check his weight first.

Nord cringed inwardly as Minna kicked Skywalker in the ribs. Skywalker did shut up, but Minna was methodically demolishing the calm, what-could-go-wrong picture that he had just spent the last twenty minutes painting in Admiral Talinia's mind. That settled it. She was obviously a few thermal detonators short of a weapons arsenal.

Nord's next thought was damage control. "Admiral, as you can see, Skywalker is still here, and perfectly safe, on my ship, just like I promised you."

Talinia glanced deliberately around the ship, her gaze drifting from the puddle of water on the floor, to drenched Skywalker, finally resting on Minna. After a moment, she turned and addressed Nord. "Is this your, ah, _usual _partner that I heard so much about?"

Nord was caught in a dilemma. If he blamed anything on Minna, he would have to admit that he hired her. On the other hand, if he didn't, he would have to imply that this was a normal state of events, which would be just as bad. _Stang. _He tried a dodge. "Admiral, would you like me to show you our state-of-the-art ElectroCuff 8000 restraints?" Too late, he realized that the stun cuffs on Skywalker were most definitely NOT the ElectroCuffs. And that ElectroCuffs, no matter which model, were illegal even in the Empire.

Luckily for Nord, the Admiral apparently wasn't up to date on that information. She took another weary glance around, and sighed. "I suppose it doesn't really matter." She turned to the overweight man beside her. "Call in the stormtroopers and have Skywalker taken to IR-7."

Across the room, Skywalker tensed. IR? Universal code for Interrogation Room. She spoke to Nord again. "As soon as Skywalker is safely removed, you may leave."

break

Back on Coruscant, Mirax Terrik was bored. The rest of the group had left on work, most of it classified. So, Mirax was left by herself in NRI headquarters. Two hours was more than enough time to get really tired of staring at the wall, but it wasn't nearly enough to go out through security, take a glance outside, and return through security.

She checked her wrist chronometer. Fifteen standard minutes had passed. _Maybe I'll go check and see if Intel has anything on Viin Nord yet. _As she made her way through the levels of headquarters, Mirax was surprised at how _normal _things were. The press and general population weren't in an uproar (they hadn't been told), Princess Leia wasn't crying her eyes out (at least not in Mirax's presence), Cracken's daughter wasn't contemplating suicide (although Mirax hadn't actually _seen _her, so who knew).

But when Mirax reached the E-9 intelligence wing, normalcy definitely wasn't the first word that came to mind.

After the guards checked her security clearance and let her in, the sight that met her eyes wasn't exactly what she was expecting, which was, namely, the strict order and austerity Cracken invariably demanded from his underlings.

The first thing that did come to mind was the . . . for lack of a better word, _propaganda, _that was littering the hallway, in the form of posters and flyers and booklets. And oddest of all, it was decidedly anti-New Republic. Titles like "The Truth About General Solo: His Outrageous Plan to Wed a Hutt Overlord" and "The Chewbacca Conspiracy: Microtechnological Poisons" and even "Luke Skywalker's Nemoidian Embezzlement Scheme." There was a viewscreen with a giant caricature of Princess Leia in red and blue ink, the words "Organa Solo Declares Herself Deity of the Cosmic Balance" in huge blocky letters stamped across her face.

Mirax couldn't resist. She grabbed a booklet and opened it up.

_The Chewbacca Conspiracy: Microtechnological Poisons_

_By Farsiria Adanis_

_Was it an innocent comment? Or is it a not-so-innocent carefully-orchestrated nefarious scheme on the part of the New Republic's government to subdue its rivals? This reporter is one-hundred percent positive that it is, in fact, the latter. _

_General Solo's frequent habit of telling his enemies to "Kiss [his] Wookiee!" is not a flippant insult. No, it is far more malicious than that. It is a death threat that has been all-too-often carried out successfully. _

_Take this example. It is well known that the feud between Han Solo and Warlord Zsinj began when Solo told Zsinj to (you guessed it) "Kiss [his] Wookiee!" Just as well known is the fact that (you guessed it again!) Zsinj ended up dead. Well, certainly, the government told us he died when his Star Destroyer blew up, but what does one expect them to say? That he was done in by a massive government conspiracy?_

_So now that we have firmly established our evidence, let us journey into speculation—_

Mirax stopped reading at that point, giggling. She had to meet this Farsiria, although she had no idea what a tabloid journalist was doing in NRI headquarters right under Cracken's overbearing nose.

Her eyes were drawn to the striking metallic depiction of a thermal detonator on a doorway. This poster was captioned, "Thermal Detonators: Fact or Fabrication?" Before Mirax even had a chance to mull that one over, the door was flung wide open.

Standing before her was one of the most unusual woman Mirax had ever seen. If you looked past the frizzy blue hair framing her face, the thick square glasses, and the artificially yellow eyes, the woman might actually be quite pretty. She beamed at Mirax. "Do you like my poster?"

Mirax was caught off guard. This woman was not concerned that she was wandering around the highest security wing in NRI or that she caught her standing outside her door, for all she knew eavesdropping. No, all she asked about was the poster. Mirax smiled perplexedly and nodded. The woman grinned. "I'm Farsiria Adanis. And you are?"

"Mirax Terrik. I was wondering what you found on Luke's disappearance so far . . . and about your poster."

"Well, the poster is simple. I mean, haven't you ever found it _strangely convenient _that anybody who's ever seen a thermal detonator work ends up dead?"

Mirax shrugged. "That never really occurred to me, actually . . . ."

Farsiria nodded knowingly. "Well, Mirax, that's the problem, isn't it? Too many people don't question what's around them and just blindly follow leadership."

"May I come in?"

"Of course."

Mirax stepped through the door. The interior of the room closely matched the hallway. She couldn't see a square centimeter of bare wall that wasn't plastered over again and again with tabloid articles, political cartoons, and caricatures. Inside the room were several occupied workspaces.

"Farsiria, can you tell me if you've got anything on Viin Nord yet?"

"Sure." Farsiria handed Mirax a stack of files.

"I mean, can you paraphrase this for me?" Mirax requested.

"Basically, we don't have much on him."

"What's in this stack of files, then?" Mirax asked.

"These are the bounty profiles that Viin Nord has successfully carried out." Farsiria pointed to a bare spot on her desk. "These are the bounties he hasn't successfully carried out."

Mirax frowned. "I suppose Lord Nyax made off with them?"

Farsiria laughed. "Lord Nyax? You mean General Cracken's brother-in-law? Those two aren't on very good terms; why would security let him through? No, I meant that there aren't any failures on Nord's part."

That didn't look good. "So have you made _any _advances on the case?"

Farsiria looked slightly defensive. "We're now positive that the Imperials definitely have Commander Skywalker, because they dropped the bounty on him."

Mirax grimaced, even though it was expected news. "What else?"

"Um . . . we're working on it, okay?"

* * *

In his quarters on the Star Destroyer _Starkiller_, Baron Soontir Fel sat at his desk waiting for Admiral Talinia to summon him. Summon him, that was, to interrogate the new prisoner. He did not know the identity of the prisoner, but the Admiral had told him that they were previous acquaintances.

Fel sighed. He was a pilot. He really didn't want to interrogate anybody, especially anybody he used to know. Everyone knew that interrogation was just a euphemism for torture (in the Empire, at least), and Fel didn't like torture. He accepted it as necessary for the security of the Empire, but he didn't like that necessity.

Baron Soontir Fel had morals. Others joined the Empire for personal gain, or because they were coerced, or because they hated nonhumans. He had joined because he believed in the Empire's stability and security. There were a lot of bad things out there, and sometimes you had to make allowances for that.

The Rebels were fond of saying that if you would trade freedom for security, you didn't deserve either. Fel's version was that if you would trade the security of your wife, children, friends, and neighbors for your freedom, go join the Rebels.

Fel's comlink chimed out a few notes. It was time to make his way to IR-7 and meet the prisoner.


	5. Play Along

Chapter 5:

A/N: Thank you so much to Forever-Luke, I Love Dance, Arya of Ellesmera, and Starskie for reviewing, and the anonymous reviewer as well! This week was terrible because I'm sick (sore throats, the bane of my existence) and missed four days of classes. But I'm really enjoying posting this story and every time I get a review my day is brightened so much :)

* * *

(Two weeks previously)

_**Luke Skywalker stepped out of General Cracken's office with a grimace. Had his memory just been erased? Luke could have sworn he had walked in completely certain that he was going to take a week's leave and walked out with the unshakable conviction that there would be no leave next week. Unless your definition of "leave", unlike Luke's, included impersonating a bounty hunter to infiltrate the most perilous bounty-hunter organization possible without backup or communications.**_

_**But how exactly did this happen? Luke hadn't had much personal experience with it, but Wedge had warned Luke about trying to wrestle a standard minute of leave from Cracken.**_

_**Whenever Luke wasn't on Coruscant working with NRI, he was with the Rogues. Whenever he wasn't with the Rogues, he was sorting out messes at the Jedi Temple. These three projects invariably jeopardized his time. But honestly, the war was halfway over now, and things were going relatively smoothly at the Jedi Academy. He hadn't taken a single day of leave since Dagobah, and that probably didn't count either. **_

_**Leave wasn't doing handstands in meter-high sludge with a swamp toad perched on top issuing orders, getting constantly shown up by the mind powers of said swamp toad, and dueling himself under a malicious tree.**_

_**There was also Crseih station. That was **__**supposed**__** to be somewhat of a vacation. But that didn't end up fitting Luke's definition of "leave" either.**_

_**Leave wasn't getting eaten by a golden blob named Waru while being driven insane by an astrological phenomenon, and it wasn't being brought back from the brink of death by a Force-wielding Firrerreo, either. **_

_**Luke had spent the last day earnestly convincing himself that A, he needed a vacation; B, he deserved a vacation; and C, he wasn't going to let himself be talked out of a vacation. When he arrived at Cracken's office, Luke was greeted with single-minded intensity that manifested itself into the form of a particularly pushy General. "Commander Skywalker, I have a new mission critical to countless innocent civilian lives. I trust I can count on you?"**_

"_**Of course," Luke found himself saying. "When do I go?" **_

_**So there Luke was, walking down the hallway, with no leave in immediate view. Actually, what did come into his line of sight was a person. His brother-in-law, in fact. Leaning casually against the wall, Han Solo began to grin cheerfully when he saw Luke.**_

"_**How did the meeting go? Did you get that leave?" Han asked. He was rather optimistic, Luke thought, for someone who talked to Cracken on a regular basis. **_

_**Luke shook his head as he walked over. "Nope."**_

"_**I thought you and Leia were dead set on a vacation next week. Kid, you can't let Cracken walk all over you."**_

"_**I didn't," Luke said stubbornly. Even though he did. "I **_**really **_**don't want to talk about it."**_

_**Meanwhile, **__**Wes Janson and Hobbie Klivian were wandering around in NRI headquarters, procrastinating. They were deathly tired of Intelligence grunt work, killing time and hoping nobody would notice them, when they heard two disembodied voices around the corner that Wes recognized as Han Solo's and Luke Skywalker's.**_

" _**. . . . Suit yourself. Leia and I are planning go to dinner with the kids tonight. Are you doing anything?" Han's voice asked.**_

"_**No, that sounds good. Where should I meet you?" Luke's voice responded.**_

"_**If you want to come to our apartment around dinnertime, we could all go together."**_

**Ah**_**, Wes thought. **_**Now here's**** a possibility for some entertainment**_**. He grinned at Hobbie, who shook his head frantically. Right before Wes yanked him around the corner. **_

_**They were greeted with an almost-glare from Commander Skywalker. "Something wrong, sir?" Wes asked politely.**_

"_**Janson, aren't you supposed to be working in the Intelligence wing?" That was probably about as hostile as Luke ever got. **_**Strange**_**, Wes thought. **_**You would almost think he didn't want to see me.**

"_**Have I done anything recently to you, Commander?" asked Wes innocently.**_

_**Luke groaned. "Not unless you consider last week's prank on Cracken 'recently'. He's just forced me onto a suicide mission, you know."**_

_**Wes did his best to look hurt. "I'm sure you're exaggerating the suicide part. And the forcing. But honestly, Luke, I'm sorry. How many times can I say it? I thought Jedi were supposed to forgive. And don't you remember all those speeches you give the Rogues about how you care deeply about all of us? What happened to that?**_

_**For a moment, Wes thought he had won Luke over. Jedi were so gullible. But then Hobbie stifled a snicker, ruining the effect. Luke rolled his eyes. "Wes, I cared deeply about your welfare two weeks ago. But since last week? Not a fan."**_

_**Wes grinned brightly. "Well, Hobbie and I will make it up to you with at dinner tonight." Hobbie looked disgruntled at being included.**_

_**General Solo looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable, no doubt concerned for the safety of his children around certain bored pilots. "Dinner? Wait just a second—"**_

"_**Nonsense!" Wes interrupted gleefully. Perfect excuse to leave work early, having dinner with the Chief of State. "We'll be at your apartment at five. See you later, Commander, General!" Wes sprinted out of there with Hobbie before they could protest.**_

* * *

Leia made her way toward the large black lacquered table where Borsk Fey'lya and the rest of the Committee for the Assessment of Education Standards were engaged in polite, halfhearted discussion. Of course, the Committee didn't actually accomplish anything. There was no viable way to establish an education standard throughout the sheer number of the New Republic's planets and species, let alone assess it.

But what were Senate Committees for, if not to waste time?

As the Senator from Bothawui Borsk Fey'lya would say, they were for winning votes. His current platform was "pro-education".

Honestly, who wasn't pro-education? Was it even possible to find a Senator that wasn't? It didn't make him _unique _in any way. It wasn't a _plan_.

Leia gracefully sank into an upholstered seat near the head of the table. She didn't belong to the group, but as the Chief of State and President of the Senate, she couldn't avoid making appearances. Fey'lya was sure to bawl to the press about how Leia was anti-education if she avoided any more meetings. As much as she despised them, Leia had to play the political games of the Senate if she wanted to stay a politician. Ironically, as the biggest politician in the New Republic, Leia hated politics.

Particularly when her brother was probably cold, hungry, and tied up in a cell somewhere (absolute best case) and she was forced to waste precious time keeping up appearances for the likes of certain specimens of Bothan pond scum. She should be back viewing more Holocron memories.

Even through Janson's upset stomach. Even though the Chief of State wasn't allowed to lock herself away for hours with Jedi Technology. _Even if this meeting is going to be oh-so-much fun, especially with my dear friend Borsk here._

Fey'lya turned with a rather disappointed look in Leia's general direction. Apparently he was hoping for that political ammunition. Nevertheless, he quickly replaced it with a bland look. "How kind of you to _finally _join us, Madam President."

Leia didn't like the faint emphasis on the word finally. "Oh, not at all, Senator. How could I stay away? It warms my heart to see such a group of dedicated Senators making such progress in the education of our young ones." Leia said it without an audible trace of sarcasm. Well, it _would_ warm her heart if there was any such group.

Fey'lya raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I certainly concur, Madame President. Only, you've been spending quite a lot of time with the Alderaan Culture Preservation Committee lately . . . one must wonder whether the _past _is worth so much of your time, when there are so many worthy causes and demands on the Chief of State."

Leia frowned and rapidly formed a reply. Whatever political dancing Borsk wanted to do, she was just going to have to play along for at least a little while. With luck, she'd be out of there in an hour. A pain-filled and bloody hour.

* * *

Baron Soontir Fel continued down the steel hallway with a subtly martyred air. On anyone else it would have looked utterly ridiculous, but Fel could wear it well. He was still upset at Admiral Talinia for placing him in this position.

As Imperial officers went, Talinia was generally reasonable, and certainly the only one left with enough resources (and intact mental faculties) to defeat the Rebels. That was part of the reason why Fel had chosen her group as opposed to the other virtually autonomous warlords. Normally, he would have been forced to submit to general leadership of the Empire, but with no clear unifying authority he was free to choose. The main term of his assistance had been, more or less, that he wouldn't be given any assignment that he objected to on moral grounds. It was unheard of in the Imperial chain-of-command, but then, Fel's legendary flying abilities were equally rare.

It had also been a test of sorts for Talinia. He didn't want to serve under yet another tyrant who was sacrificed opportunity for the sake of her own inflated ego, but Talinia had shown that she was willing to be practical when she (after strenuous initial opposition) settled for his terms. She could think of it as hiring him rather than commanding him, anyway. Even if Fel didn't get much of a salary.

But lately, he was questioning his assignments more and more. The problem was that he _couldn't _exactly protest them. He acknowledged the necessity of harsh interrogation, even if he disliked it. It wouldn't be . . . valid, exactly, to bring that up to Talinia, because he never voiced any moral objection to it previously. And Talinia would think, perhaps rightly so, that Fel just didn't want to get his hands dirty, that he was taking advantage of the terms he had set.

Why did she assign _him_ to the interrogation of prisoners, anyway? He knew that there were many others in the Empire who were less lofty in their expectations, possibly to the point of erring on the other side. They would do this gladly.

All too soon, he reached the holding cells and interrogation area of _Starkiller_. The girth of Admiral Talinia's red-haired aide was effectively obstructing passage through the narrow hallway. Fel couldn't remember his name. _Badrete or Bidorte or something like that_.

This was an interesting dilemma. The man was faced away from him, who didn't remember either the aide's name or rank. What was he supposed to do, shout out "hey you," to the man? Admiral Talinia frowned on that sort of thing on her orderly ship. On the other hand, as much as he wanted to, he shouldn't keep the Admiral waiting.

Luckily for Fel, the man turned around. It was a bit like watching a giant navy-clad bolo ball spin in place. "Baron Fel, there you are. The Admiral is waiting for you."

He flung himself against the nearest doorway to allow Fel room to pass, as if the wall had done him a great personal wrong. Miraculously, Fel slipped through to the other side before the door gave way. For once, he was glad that Syal wasn't there to cook for him. _Don't think about her right now._

He reluctantly stepped into IR-7. He looked around for the prisoner, and spotted . . . .

Nobody. Nobody besides Admiral Talinia and a dark haired man, that was. _Great, _he thought. _Another new friend. _It was getting to be a serious pain to memorize the names of every run-of-the-mill officer Talinia paraded under his nose.

"This is Dr. Rengell," Admiral Talinia introduced him with her customary terseness. The doctor was tall and classically handsome. He had a datapad sticking out the pocket of his white lab coat just like a holovid physician, although he had never seen an authentic one look quite so stereotypical. But the unctuous smile he gave Fel marred the air of studied intimidation that surrounded him. _Now I'm doubly glad Syal isn't here. _Not that Syal would ever commit adultery, far from it; this Dr. Rengell seemed just the wife-stealing type.

"Bedern, get in here!" Admiral Talinia snapped at her aide, who was hovering at the doorway. Even if it was physically impossible for someone that heavy to hover.

Bedern waddled in.

Talinia nodded to the doctor. "Baron Fel, Dr. Rengell is a physician and interrogation expert. He is under your orders, as is Bedern. My aide will carry reports between us and the like." Talinia ignored the look of shock and disbelief on Bedern's face. Apparently she hadn't sent him a mission briefing.

Fel put what he hoped was a politely puzzled expression on his face. "Admiral, I hope you don't think me impolite, but I can't help but wonder what my contribution is. The situation appears to be under control."

Talinia smirked. "Fel, the prisoner might not give to conventional interrogation as easily as you think. Rest assured your presence will be helpful." She pressed a button on her comlink, and two stormtroopers marched in with a prisoner. Fel's jaw dropped, leaving enough room in his mouth to comfortably accommodate a krayt dragon, although he would have rather swallowed one of those than follow through with this assignment.

* * *

To say Luke Skywalker was bored would be inaccurate. He hadn't had anything to do except stare at his surroundings, but the room he was in wasn't a room a person could be easily bored in. Shocked, apprehensive, and terrified, sure, but hardly bored.

The room was furnished in grey metal. So common for a Star Destroyer, but there were many different types of metal. There was the sturdy hard dullness of the walls, the smooth transparisteel of viewports, the clingy silver blend that made up technology— datapads, controls, things meant to be touched. The room was a hard, sharp, gray, and the metal looked eerily purposeful. Somehow, it seemed smooth and sharp at the same time, although that was, perhaps, partially a function of the equipment backed up against the wall across from him.

A thankful distraction came in the form of voices in an adjacent room. He didn't have Jedi powers anymore, but he still had pretty good hearing. One of the voices sounded oddly familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. That was strange. How many Imperials did he recognize by voice?

A minute or so later, one of the stormtrooper's comlinks beeped. That was apparently their signal to roughly shove Luke towards the door. He really didn't see any way of resisting, so he didn't struggle as they pushed him towards the voices. The next room identical to the first, larger and (if it were possible) more menacing.

When he saw the occupants, to say Luke Skywalker was shocked would be an understatement.

Standing next to Admiral Talinia was Soontir Fel, the man who had defected from the Emperor to Isard to the New Republic, and apparently back again. Luke hadn't been best friends with him, but they had been acquaintances based on mutual respect. They had both been pilots— very, very, good pilots.

Luke saw the shock he was feeling mirrored on Fel's face. What was going on?

"Luke Skywalker!" Fel turned to Talinia in amazement.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have quite a bit of work to do. Grand Moffs to bully, Rebels to harass." And with that unusually forward statement, she left.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter is when things start to get darker!


	6. Risks and Consequences

Chapter 6

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much to Forever-Luke, I Love Dance, NA, and Arya of Ellesmera for reviewing! You're amazing :)

* * *

_**"The Little Lost Bantha Cub!" Jaina, Jacen and Anakin chorused in response to Luke's question. **_

_**Luke was rather taken aback. Hadn't they outgrown that story several years ago? Han, Leia, and especially Luke (as the Solo's longtime free babysitter) had all gone through the suffering of the children's "favorite story" phase. None of the adults were violent people, but to be perfectly honest, Luke doubted there wasn't one of them who hadn't contemplated taking a leaf out of dear-old-dad's book and skewering the thing through with a lightsaber.**_

_**Luke spoke cautiously. "I was thought that you three were, uh, tired**__**of that story." He tried not to make the word story sound like the atrocity it was.**_

_**Jaina giggled. "Don't be silly, Uncle Luke! We're too old for that little kid bookchip," she explained patiently. "I mean the hologame that Mr. Janson gave us today. We've tried it out, and it's really fun."**_

_**Luke fought the urge to grab for his comlink and bring Wes Janson up on a court martial. On the charge of theft of his Commanding Officer's sanity, perhaps? There had to be some rule against that.**_

_**The children were beginning to look impatient. "Come on, Uncle Luke!" Anakin pulled him over to the Solo's living room while Jacen and Jaina distributed the game controllers. Immediately, an obnoxious melody began to play. "Level Three. I am lost Robo-Bantha. Help me find my herd!" Jacen held a green game controller out to him.**_

_**Luke proved in that moment that he was a heroic Jedi by accepting the controller and letting the kids ruthlessly and systematically decimate him in Bantha-Bash mode several time in rapid succession. The massacre went on until Han stepped into the room. "We can leave as soon as Leia gets here . . . hey, is that the new game Janson gave you? No way, it's the **_**Little Lost Bantha Cub! **_**I can't believe that idiot actually gave it to you!"**_

"_**Dad, want to play with us?" Jaina asked enthusiastically. "You can have Jacen's controller; he's bad at it anyway."**_

"_**I'm not as bad at it as Uncle Luke!" Jacen protested, but it was too late. Jaina had swiped his controller and shoved it into Han's hands. Han shrugged when the doorbell rang. **_

_**Anakin abandoned his controller and ran over to answer the door. Janson bounded in before Han or Luke could protest, with Hobbie hanging back, apparently attempting to look inconspicuous while he stared at the screen in horror and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "There goes my favorite blaster."**_

"_**You're playing The Little Lost Bantha Cub? Cool!" Janson picked up Anakin's discarded controller. "I'll show you how it's done."**_

_**It turned out to be a surprisingly gory battle. Luke and Han had abandoned all strategy and just did their utmost best to pound Janson into a bloody bantha pulp. **_

_**To no one's surprise, Jaina was far ahead by the time Leia walked in the door and saw the men playing The Little Lost Bantha Cub.**_

"_**What are you three doing?" Leia asked, looking appalled. "You're playing the **_**children's **_**hologames? Luke, at least **_**you**_** should know better."**_

_**Luke looked up at her rather guiltily and dropped the controller. Stepping back from his overwhelming desire for Janson's blood. . . .**_

_**Han changed the subject with all the dexterity of the husband of Darth Vader's daughter. "How did the Senate meeting go?"**_

"_**If a politician speaks and there is no press around to hear him, is he still lying?" she asked rhetorically. **_

* * *

Mirax hadn't thought it possible, but she was finally bored. All the time she spent in Farsiria's office (when she wasn't viewing holocron memories with the others) had made her entirely sick of tabloids. After all, there were only so many times you could make fun of the Solo kids for being Dooku, Ventress and Maul reincarnated, or the robot nerf that devoured Borsk Fey'lya's security blanket.

The holocron memories hadn't even revealed anything very important yet. Leia Organa Solo insisted that they were going to reveal something important soon, but three days and quite a few memories later, Mirax wasn't so sure.

And even if it was for a good cause, Mirax still felt uncomfortable seeing into Luke Skywalker's private thoughts, however innocent they might be. She had no idea why Cracken decided to include Janson on the team viewing the memories— could you imagine the blackmail potential?

Janson had absolutely no boundaries, and Mirax could easily envision him telling Luke's students that he thought of Yoda as a highly talented swamp toad.

Did Cracken have a grudge against Luke or something? Mirax shook her head and let out an audible sigh. She was spending far too much time around Farsiria and her conspiracy theories. A New Republic general like Cracken having a grudge against the hero of the Rebellion?

Farsiria looked cheerfully up at Mirax. "Mirax, do you want to read the newest issue of the Weekly Galactic News? It's fresh off the Holonet."

Mirax smiled politely. "No thank you. Maybe I'll go see if I can find my husband now. . . ." She stood up from the antique checkered Corvisian chair, stumbling over a messy pile of flimsies as she headed for the door.

Before she advanced two steps, there was a knock on the door. "Come in!" Farsiria called out from her overflowing desk.

Wedge Antilles entered the room. Farsiria gave an odd yelping noise and flung herself under the desk. Even though she supposed she shouldn't be, Mirax was rather surprised. Wedge was probably the most famous hero of the Rebellion that she hadn't seen lampooned by Farsiria's tabloids, and anyone that knew Wedge personally knew he was kind, responsible, and diligent. As well as one of the last people that one might ever have to hide under desks from.

Mirax almost laughed at the perplexed look Wedge gave her. "Am I missing something?" he asked.

Mirax shrugged. "If so, I'm missing it too," she replied.

Farsiria's muffled voice was still relatively coherent through the thick imitation-wood of the desk. "W-wedge Antilles? Oh. . . he's part of Rogue Squadron, the blood-sucker Ewok gang."

Mirax frowned. Farsiria might have been a tabloid journalist, but this wasn't an unusual conspiracy theory; this was ridiculous. "Farsiria, if you look up, you'll see that Wedge is definitely _not _an Ewok." Mirax said, feeling that she was missing the point. She glanced back at Wedge. "What are you doing here?"

Wedge took his eyes away from the desk. "Corran said you'd be here; I wanted to clarify some points in your official statement about the smugglers."

Mirax frowned. "An official statement? Surely Cracken isn't thinking of releasing the fact that Luke is an Imperial captive?"

Wedge winced. "Not yet, but you must admit that things aren't going so well right now. And better they hear it from us than Talinia."

Mirax reluctantly nodded. "I'll come with you, just a sec." She walked over to Farsiria and dropped down next to her. Farsiria turned slightly so Mirax could see her face. "Farsiria, are you okay?" Mirax asked. She knew it wasn't exactly the right question, but wasn't sure what was.

"Of course," Farsiria replied, almost normal again. On her face, though, there was a strange disquiet.

* * *

"When's Uncle Luke going to be back?" Anakin asked curiously. The Solo family was eating dinner together with increasing frequency lately, that night in a casual Corellian restaurant several blocks from their apartment.

Across the table, Han dropped his eating utensils with a clang against the gaudy kaleidoscope of red, green, and gold that made up the restaurant's oval plates. He exchanged a glance with Leia.

Han recovered first. "Anakin, haven't we told you yet?"

Anakin shrugged. "I know that Uncle Luke is _supposed _to be back day after tomorrow. But I was just wondering what _time_ day after tomorrow."

Han was relieved and worried at the same time. He glanced at Leia again, who was staring into the imitation gold tiled fountain. By this time, the twins had caught on as well something was going on and turned their attention away from their greasy nerf nuggets.

"About that," Han began. "I'm afraid that Uncle Luke. . .isn't going to back—" at that point Leia shot him a warning look, whipping her head up so fast she nearly banged her head on the fat Corellian food-deity statue resting on the booth's back, "—yet. There's, uh, more work than he anticipated right now, and he holocommed to say he won't be back for at least a little while longer. . . ."

Han knew he was blatantly lying, but what was he supposed to say?

They didn't have to tell the kids yet. Even if things were looking pretty bad right now, Luke was a lot tougher than his twelve-year-old-with-a-water-blaster exterior suggested, and he was luckyall the time too. He might yet pull out of this. Until then, the only tactic he could think of was to stall. Even if it wouldn't work for long.

Not for the first time, Han regretted having kids that had inherited Leia's brains. Which wasn't to say that Han's scoundrelism, as Leia called it, hadn't rubbed off on them either. C-3PO always called it "a scandalous and blatant disregard for decorum." Imperials called it . . . well, they didn't really have a chance to call it anything before they saw stars. Cracken's _Essential Field Guide_ had it listed as fair play. As for Han and Leia, they couldn't help but call it adorable when they saw it in their own children, even if they couldn't keep anything from the little darlings.

"So," Han said loudly over the sound of the kids' moans of disappointment (Luke was rather liberal with the post-mission presents), "Who's up for some Bantha Bash when we get home?"

* * *

As Admiral Talinia left the interrogation room, Fel inwardly swore, banged his head against an imaginary wall, and entertained vivid fantasies of Talinia, Rengell, and the entire situation dissolving into the lava rivers of Mustafar.

"Baron Fel?" Dr. Rengell asked, who looked to be obscenely amused by Fel's predicament. "Your orders?"

Fel took a deep breath and gazed reluctantly at Luke Skywalker. He was kneeling on the floor between several heavily armed stormtroopers, hands bound together by activated stun-cuffs. Yet he looked unharmed, except for a large bruise underneath his left eye. He looked just the same – but Fel supposed that legends and Jedi didn't age like normal people.

Contrary to what many believed, the Rebellion wasn't just a heroic crusade for peace and equality in the galaxy. That was a fact. Many of the Rebels were smugglers and criminals; quite a few were there for political advantage or simply because the Rebellion controlled their planet. Few Rebels fought because they genuinely believed in the aforementioned values.

Luke Skywalker was one of the few.

With Dr. Rengell starting to tap one metal-tipped boot on the sterilized floor, Fel knew he could put this off no longer. He met eyes with Luke Skywalker. Contrary to what one might believe, eyes were nearly as revealing as literature suggested them to be. Luke's were just as luminously blue as always, a little older and wiser, perhaps, but they hadn't changed much. He wondered what Luke saw revealed in his.

Luke broke the silence first. "It's nice to see you again, Soontir."

Fel sighed. "Is it?"

Luke nodded, then winced as a few small forks of blue lightning from the stun-cuffs crawled up his arm. "So what are you going to do with me?"

He felt his features turn hard. "I'm an Imperial officer, and you're a traitor to the Empire. What do you thinkwe're going to do to you?"

Luke shrugged slightly, doubling over a little from the electricity. "_Traitor _to the Empire? That's a new one. But I didn't ask what the Empire was going to do, I asked what _you _were."

Fel gave up on the Imperial act. "Luke. You might be naïve to think that the Rebellion is the right side to support, but I'm sure you do it out of idealism." It sounded condescending, but he had been that way once too. "But you've done the galaxy more harm than good by joining it, and I can't ignore that."

Luke remained silent.

Fel sighed again. "I see only one course of action I can condone. You've chosen your side, and I've chosen mine. We both knew the risks and consequences. The only thing I can do for you is to make sure this goes as quickly and painlessly as possible. And that's it." He didn't even bother to ask Luke to just give them the information— he wouldn't, and even if he did, Talinia wouldn't let him go.

Fel would do his duty— the only problem was that Luke would do his.

"Excellent," Dr. Rengell drawled. "Now that you've made your little speech and satisfied your conscience, Baron Fel, we can begin." He held out a long flimsi out. "This is the first round of questions the Admiral wants answers to."

"Isn't there a softening up period first?" Fel asked hopefully. Usually, prisoners had a few days of starvation, harsh lights, and sleep deprivation before interrogation began.

Rengell let out a short and mirthless laugh. "Baron Fel, how useful do you think any softening up period is going to be on this particular prisoner? Besides, even though we're taking every precaution," Rengell glanced at the stormtroopers, "We don't want to risk losing this useful opportunity that we have."

By this point, Fel felt the situation rapidly spiraling out of control. To be precisely clear, he had _no _experience in interrogation. What was he supposed to do? Order the stormtroopers to beat Luke into unconsciousness? He knew that would be an entirely pointless exercise.

Dr. Rengell spoke up again. "Baron, Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"I'm an interrogation expert, and you're a fighter pilot. You have no idea of how to handle this situation, and even if you did, you clearly have issues with it. But with your consent, I will take charge of this project. You can take a little vacation in complete assurance that all of our objections will be accomplished."

Until then, Admiral Talinia's aide had remained quiet. However, he voiced a protest. "Admiral Talinia said that _Baron Fel_ was to be in charge of this project."

Dr. Rengell waved a hand dismissively. "There's no reason for Baron Fel to have to deal with the details. Admiral Talinia is in charge of the Empire, but she doesn't have to personally inspect the _Starkiller'_s utility droids, does she?"

Fel might have been completely inexperienced with interrogation, but he wasn't _that_ naive. "While I do concede that it would be prudent to consult your, uh, expertise," it hurt his teeth to say that, "I certainly won't be leaving." As tempting as it was to wash his hands of the whole thing, _that _would be truly immoral. He stood by his belief that this was necessary— so he was going to see this through.

Dr. Rengell scowled. "Very well."


	7. Tinted Dark

Chapter 7: Tinted Dark

A/N: Thank you, Forever-Luke, I Love Dance, ClearSkylark, and Marin for reviewing!!! Reviews make it so much more fun to write. And also thank you to everyone who just reads this story and never reviews : ) Just knowing you're there is awesome.

Okay, fun and happiness over : ) Seriously, Luke does not have a good time in this chapter (understatement of the galaxy).

* * *

In one of the more opulent meeting rooms of the _Starkiller_, two Imperial officers were discussing the future of the Empire over Caridian white tea and Lura blossom pastries – the kind of thing people more liked the idea of eating than the actual taste. Of course, Imperial officers more liked the ideaof discussing things with each other than the actual practice, so it was rather appropriate all around.

"That is a most intriguing offer, Admiral Talinia. However, I am afraid I must decline," said Warlord Teradoc with a barely passable amount of interest in his voice.

Talinia hid a smirk. "Warlord Teradoc, I'm confident that you'll change your mind before this meeting ends."

Teradoc shrugged. "I doubt it. But let's be frank with each other. I don't recognize your claim to the Empire, and you don't recognize mine. I won't join you, much less place my forces under your command, and I have absolutely no idea why you think I would."

"Then I suppose your business here is done," Talinia replied serenely. "Unless," she added, almost flippantly, "You would like to follow me to the interrogation room for a few minutes."

* * *

Luke tasted blood as he stumbled to his feet. The next blow came from behind, sending him slamming into the metal wall, shoulders first, then head. The pain blossomed all the way down his spine, and his legs gave out again.

He lay there, stunned, for a moment. An electronic voice crackled emotionlessly. "Get up."

Luke rolled onto his side and pushed himself up wearily, leaning against the wall for support. The three stormtroopers faced him in a loose semicircle. Without the Force, he couldn't defend himself very well, pinned against the wall with his arms cuffed behind his back.

The middle stormtrooper yanked him forward and backhanded him across the face with a metal glove, sending him reeling. Luke tried to roll with the blow, but it still snapped his head back and sent him stumbling into another armored figure, who pinned him against the wall again. Blow after blow opened ragged wounds and splintered ribs.

When it stopped, Luke crumpled to the ground. He closed his eyes and rested against the cool metal floor for a moment, chest rising and falling from difficult, pained breaths.

"Get up," said the voice again.

Luke was tempted to ignore it, but pride won out. Unwillingly, he opened his eyes and struggled to his feet. For a brief moment he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stand – but the moment passed, and he stayed upright.

He couldn't see the stormtroopers' faces through the darkened glass, but the interrogator – a tall, dark-haired man – looked fairly surprised. The expression didn't stay, though; he motioned to the stormtroopers, and they dragged him forwards to a table without chairs in the center of the room.

A stormtrooper behind him grabbed Luke's shoulders, and he barely had enough time to twist his head to the side before it was slammed down onto the table.

The interrogator spoke to him. "What are the identities of the Rebel agents in Yaga Minor?"

Luke closed his eyes. The ventilation shafts hummed quietly with air. Something was vibrating underfoot, and he just listened quietly and imagined that it was something exploding a thousand feet away. Han's shooting perhaps, or maybe Wedge.

Someone gripped Luke's arm tightly, twisting it and clamping down at an awkward angle. Luke took a deep breath, then immediately regretted it as his ribs screamed in protest.

"Increase the pressure," said the interrogator calmly.

It felt like being stabbed as the stormtrooper's glove slowly rotated, stopping just when Luke was sure his arm would break.

"I don't know!" he gasped finally.

For a few more moments, there was nothing but the sweat or blood trickling down Luke's face and the white-hot pain shooting down his arm. Then the stormtrooper stepped forward in a quick, vicious movement and Luke's arm snapped. He gasped convulsively, too breathless to scream.

"We can do this as long as necessary," said the interrogator. "Do Jedi still need their fingers?"

* * *

"Are you sure that _all _of this data is right?" Corran asked Iella. Since the holocron had yielded little information so far, the team had split into two groups, with Corran, Mirax, Wedge and Iella working on the Intelligence side of things.

Iella nodded tiredly. "Beyond reasonable doubt."

The bounty hunter Viin Nord's home planet Xandra had long been a subject of puzzlement to most galactic scientists. There were numerous accounts of machinery going haywire, often enough to be believable, but not often enough to be anticipated. Visitors swore that they had seen certain members of the population disappear into thin air, though this phenomenon had yet to be caught on holocam.

The scientists had long given up on finding a plausible solution. The civilians, on the other hand, were split into two major divisions concerning Xandra.

The more cynical believed that the whole thing was merely a carefully orchestrated plot by the planet's leadership to encourage tourism. Others believed that it was conclusive proof that every Xandrian was a Sith in disguise, which would actually make sense. Who else would dare to live on the same planet as Viin Nord?

Nobody else, they had concluded, would voluntarily do _that_.

However, the NRI had a more immediate concern. For no apparent reason, there had been _no _traffic on or off Xandra for the past standard three days.

"How is this even possible?" asked Wedge.

Iella shrugged. "What I'm concerned about is why it took us _three days _to receive this information. How could we miss something like this?"

No one had an answer to that.

"I think I'll assign Farsiria Adanis to this one. She's not getting much done right now, not that anyone else is."

Mirax frowned. "I was wondering about that. Iella, you put together the list of NRI agents working on Luke's disappearance, didn't you?"

"That's right."

"Did you have any particular reason for choosing Farsiria?"

Iella shook her head. "I didn't put her on the list; Cracken added her. That was odd, actually, since we're trying to keep the team small. She's some sort of tabloid holojournalist or something, I'm not sure why we need her."

Mirax looked at Iella speculatively. "I wonder why he did add her, then?"

"No idea," said Iella. She crossed the hallway and stuck her head into Cracken's office.

Cracken looked up. "Iella, are you busy? I have a report on Xandra for you that I'd like to talk over."

"Mirax and I were wondering about something," she said. "Why did you add Farsiria Adanis to the list investigating Luke's capture?"

"Farsiria Adanis?" Cracken asked, looking genuinely perplexed. "Who's that?"

* * *

An excerpt from the holographic communications log of Viin Nord:

Bedern: Bounty Hunter Nord, Admiral Talinia has another assignment for you. You will receive further instruction after the hyperspace jump.

Nord: As much as I'd like to help the cause, I'm afraid I can't do that. Not without any details.

Bedern: How much?

Nord: You can't put a price tag on trust.

Bedern: Would a retail value of twenty thousand credits in advance, fifty later be sufficient?

Nord: Thirty in advance is acceptable.

Bedern: Very well; the coordinates are being sent to your navigational computer.

Nord: Where am I going?

Bedern: Xandra. That's all I'm at liberty to say.

* * *

_**Luke Skywalker did his utmost best to focus on the menu as Wes Janson mimed upending his drink onto Luke's head, much to the children's amusement. Han and Leia had boxed him into a corner, however unintentionally— with three available seats, Luke could have avoided sitting next to Wes, but that would have been throwing Jaina to the gundarks.**_

_**Leia diplomatically cleared her throat as she handed a menu to Wes. As Luke exchanged a pained look with Han, he watched Leia take a stab at conversation. **_

"_**So," she ventured bravely. "That's, er, an interesting choice of dinner dress, Wes." She didn't actually say the "er," but it was almost audible.**_

_**Janson was wearing a bottle green and silver pinstriped shirt with matte black pants, but what really drew the eye was the shimmering sea-colored cloak he had thrown over his clothing. The cloak consisted of numerous thin, crinkled strips of fabric in various shades of aqua and jade which reflected the globular dimmed lights hanging several feet above their heads. It gave Janson the impression of being an extremely glittery seaweed-draped bird; ironically he actually fit in quite well with the oceanic Mon Calamarian restaurante's décor. **_

_**Janson smiled engagingly. "It's nice, isn't it? I borrowed it from Cilghal; she said it was traditional."**_

_**Luke was rather skeptical about that. Granted, Cilghal had a sense of humor. But as a Jedi Healer and ambassador from Mon Calamari, she seemed a little too intelligent to try and get revenge on Janson by draping him in shiny fabric.**_

"_**I've never heard of any secret Mon Calamarian rituals like that," said Jacen.**_

_**Janson shrugged conspiratorially. "Maybe that's why they're secret? It's always the quiet, healer types. Come on, can't you see Ambassador Cilghal dancing around a burnt offering to the Venerable God of Seaweed?"**_

_**In spite of himself, it took a substantial portion of Luke's Jedi self-control to keep a straight face. That was the problem with Wes. The same things that made him immature, annoying, and occasionally embarrassing also made him fun to be around. And even if you didn't acknowledge his dubious wit, he was loyal and dependable when it really counted. **_

_**Luke watched Leia smile rather indulgently at Janson. **__**"**__**Has everyone decided what to order?" **_

_**There were affirmative nods all around the table. Luke was planning on the garnished Manisat, honestly because he had no intention of attempting to pronounce anything else. **_

_**He was actually rather impressed to note that throughout the entire meal, Janson failed to do anything more embarrassing than trying to flirt with their chartreuse-and-salmon skinned Mon Calamarian waitress and spilling half his glass of Quarren wine onto Luke. Well, if you could disregard the cloak, an understandably difficult task. **_

_**Janson had apologized, stayed penitent for about three standard minutes. That was, incidentally, the same amount of time he had sulked over the waitress's rejection. **_

_**As soon as Luke finished wringing the excess wine from his shirt, he had gone to the refresher to futilely attempt to rinse the obstinate mauve liquid out of the formerly-white fabric. At least he didn't have to wear the shirt any more**__**.**_

_**It had been a present from the twins, who had pooled their allowances on his last birthday— officially, anyway. Luke suspected that Han and Leia had chipped in quite a bit, and Leia must have picked the shirt out. Her latest project had been trying to force him to wear something besides black.**_

_**Luke inwardly groaned. Leia was going to think that he **_**tried **_**to do the shirt in by dining in the same general vicinity as Janson. **_

_**It wasn't that he was particularly clumsy, but Force help the wretched being that caught him off-duty. He glanced at the shirt in the mirror. By pure luck, the blotch appeared to be artistically placed. Maybe he could even get back to his apartment without more than a few people wondering why Luke Skywalker was wandering around Coruscant with a wine-soaked shirt, or even worse, **_**not **_**wondering why.**_

_**Luke immediately resolved to go out to his landspeeder, parked outside, to retrieve his jacket. **_

_**The busy airways that crisscrossed above the landing platform, stretching out as far as he could see and looping around screamingly bright signs and various advertisements against a backdrop of the wordless murmur of Coruscant's inhabitants created a stark contrast to the elegance and calm of the restaurant's interior.**_

_**As he unlocked the landspeeder and retrieved his jacket from one of the nerf-leather seats, Luke felt a strange feeling of unease wash over him. Slipping on the jacket, he casually turned around.**_

_**Two landspeeders away stood a cloaked woman, leaning against the dingy wall that edged the platform. She was half turned towards Luke, but he knew she hadn't noticed him yet. In a flash of movement, he quickly closed the distance between them.**_

_**She noticed him then, smoothly turning to escape. She was summarily trapped against the wall. **_

_**The woman took in a deep breath. "Let go of me."**_

_**Luke shook his head. "Not until you tell me why you've been following me all over Coruscant."**_

_**The woman's voice turned sarcastic. "Is it a crime to pursue my favorite holostar in hopes of an autograph?"**_

_**Matching her heated tone with his even one, he raised an eyebrow. "Well, you've caught me. In any case, I'm a Jedi, not a holostar, and I need an explanation."**_

_**Her voice dropped down to a menacing whisper. "I have done nothing to you, and I don't appreciate being manhandled by Jedi and their witchcraft. I'm telling you again, release me."**_

_**When she saw Luke's hesitation, she yanked free of her grasp. Since her words were technically true, he didn't bother resisting. However, her violent motion caused the hood to fall, and he caught a glimpse of her face. She was startlingly beautiful, with large dark eyes and ash blond hair, but she looked terrified. Pulling the cloak back over her face, she fled to her vehicle and disappeared into dark-tinted transparisteel.**_

* * *

Wes Janson leisurely opened his eyes as the room came back into focus.

He was prepared to write that last Holocron memory off as a failure as well when Leia jumped up with a triumphant smile. Such an undignified motion was rare for the Chief-of-State, so Janson decided he could safely assume that there was good news somewhere in there.

"We've got Talinia now!" Han crowed. Maybe he knew something Janson didn't. As Han was higher than Janson on the command chain by several parsecs, it wasn't entirely unlikely.

With the exception of Han and Leia, the rest of the room's occupants looked as confused as Wampas on Mustafar. Taking the most casual glance at the expression on Hobbie's face, however, that wasn't saying much.

Han took pity on them first. "We saw the face of Luke's lunatic stalker."

Wes blinked. "Well, that's good. Who is she?"

Han shrugged. "Hell if I know. She looks familiar, though."

"She's been _working on __Luke's disappearance_," Leia explained stridently. "I don't know her name, but she's the one with the blue hair."

Considering the amount of sarcasm with which Leia laced the phrase "working on Luke's disappearance", Wes had no doubt that Cracken was about to suffer. Wes couldn't entirely blame her. The woman obviously had something to do with Luke's disappearance, and she had managed to slip not only into NRI but into the very team that was searching for him.

Han frowned slightly. "I think I've seen her from somewhere else, though . . . ."

Well, if she did indeed have blue hair like Leia said, it might be a bit hard to focus on her features. _A bit_ hard like Emperor Palpatine was _a bit _scary, that was.

Wes was the first to vacate his seat. "We'd better talk to this girl, then," he said with a grim smile.

Leia gave him a warning glance. "Hold on, Wes. I'll be very annoyed if she manages to get away. We're going to go call for some backup."

* * *

A/N: Next chapter: Luke still doesn't have much fun. But progress is made towards saving him.


	8. Stacking the Deck

Chapter 8:

A/N: Thank you so much to I love dance, Mireilles3, Forever-Luke, Treenahasthaal, and Glace96 for reviewing! Reviews are awesome : ) Anyway, this chapter is a bit long so it took me a while to edit. Hope you like it!

* * *

In some respects, fire-knives were inappropriately named. They weren't meant to cut, even if they were approximately blade-shaped. They weren't even hot in the normal sense of the word. But they did deliver high-voltage shocks that left painful welts to deep electrical burns, depending on duration of contact, on their victims – who were not often coherent enough to tell the difference electricity and fire.

Luke Skywalker was one of them. He was bound between two metal columns at the wrists and ankles, wearing only a pair of grey shorts ironically similar to the ones used in bacta immersion.

Each breath was agony, increasing the pressure on his battered ribs and shoulders, already straining from having to support his weight. He couldn't move his head much, but in the mirrored walls he could see the red lines and blood trickling down his face and chest, sharp against his white skin.

Luke inhaled in a shuddering gasp as the metal made contact again, slowly tracing the lower edge of his right shoulder blade to rest on his side. Folds of black chiffon filtered through his vision. His head dropped down, but he could dimly make out the interrogator's criminally unhurried voice drifting through his perception.

Luke felt his body involuntarily tremble as an infuser was pressed against his neck, followed by a deep, sharp, ache.

Almost immediately, he felt some of the haze clear away, but the shaking worsened. He wished it would stop. It was only giving them the wrong impression. It was cold, that was all, and he desperately needed to rest.

He could hear what the interrogator was saying now, or some of it, at least.

". . . plans for Bilbringi?" The interrogator stared at him expectantly. Luke had no idea why, as he certainly hadn't given them any reason to think that that particular question would be answered. He remained silent, unable to face the thought of concentrating hard enough to come up with anything coherent.

This was apparently not a major concern for the interrogator. He looked behind Luke and the fire-knife grazed his skin again. Luke felt his back arch as far as the restraints would allow as he gave another anguished gasp.

The interrogator raised his eyebrows. "Feel free to speak up."

It was no use saying anything, he told himself. It wouldn't stop anyway.

The interrogator was as calm as ever. "I'm sure you'll change your mind."

The last thing he saw before bright lightning covered his field of vision was Fel's face, pale and troubled against metallic strokes of color. He didn't look happy, for what it was worth.

* * *

Soontir Fel stared at the section of gleaming metal wall above Dr. Rengell's head. Doctor being used in the loosest possible sense, as he doubted Rengell was emotionally capable of healing anyone.

". . .methods of interrogation," Rengell was saying. "To say that Skywalker has continued to resist common forms of psychological, psychiatric, pharmacological, and physical interrogation would be technically truthful, though overly simplistic – "

"Oh, just call it torture," Fel snapped as his gaze swept downwards. "You don't need to boil it in honey for me."

Rengell gave Fel an annoyed look but continued. "Skywalker has exhibited numerous signs of weakening both emotionally and physically. For example – "

Fel resumed his staring as he tuned Rengell's voice out again. Luke hadn't thus far seen fit to share a single piece of information, but Rengell had the audacity to say that his imminent breaking was a sure thing?

Dr. Rengell shot him another irritated glance. "Baron Fel, I don't understand why you are so insistent that we have these ridiculous excuses for report sessions if you're not even going to listen."

Fel gave him a sharp look. "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

"It's obvious that you don't want to be here. You keep insisting that I use unpleasant terms like 'torture' and 'prisoner,' but whenever I go into any sort of detail whatsoever you look like you've swallowed a swarm of flitnats.

"It's furthermore clear that you have some moral objection to this interrogation. But don't you think it's a bit hypocritical to be condemning me for doing the dirty work while you sit here and watch?"

Fel let himself be drawn into the argument against his better judgment. "I recognize it as necessary and good for the benefit of the Empire, but I'm not _enjoying _it."

Dr. Rengell raised an eyebrow. "And you're under the impression that my idea of fun is watching Skywalker thwart me with every second of his resistance? Or are you telling me that you can do whatever you want, as long as you don't enjoy it? Force forbid that you base these things on the way the prisonerfeels."

Fel gave him an incredulous look. "Are _you_ trying to preach to _me_ about the treatment of prisoners?"

Rengell smirked at him. "I was merely trying to speak on your level. No, this doesn't particularly bother me. But you obviously don't like it, so why don't you try to stop it?" he asked curiously.

"If you're suggesting that I become a traitor to the Empire for the benefit of a Rebel, you're wasting your time."

Rengell's smile widened. "Well now, so it wasn't really _about _Skywalker, was it?"

* * *

_How did they find out about me? _Farsiria asked herself. The question pondered by most spies in her position, detained and facing the more intimidating end of a blaster.

Right before they died a fiery death.

Farsiria could see that Princess Leia and Wedge were accompanied by a woman she didn't know and a tall and physically imposing man that was obviously her interrogator. New Republic Intelligence might be above torture, but they certainly weren't above mind games.

There were only two feasible answers she could think of to that question. The first was that they had detected her computer programming manipulations, which was unlikely.

The second was that Wedge had given her away.

No, that couldn't be possible. As Farsiria took another quick glance at his face, it was obvious that as grim-faced as Wedge looked, he still didn't recognize her. And she doubted that he was capable of faking it that well.

_After all, _Farsiria thought, _Wedge might have got the political sense of the family, but I inherited all the acting talent._

_Might as well break the silence._

"I might be intimidating," Farsiria said in her usual not-quite-all-there tones, "But don't you think this is stacking the deck a bit?"

* * *

As white-hot flames enveloped him, Luke felt more than heard himself cry out as the room faded into a dim blur of red and chrome.

It could have been seconds or hours before he woke up – but he suspected it was probably closer to seconds.

Typically the most unreliable of the senses, sight was the first to go. After enough of the pain, his vision would blur together and reform itself into a dizzying array of red and green lines on black, a dissonant impression brushed onto stark metal.

It was ephemeral, fading away long before comprehension could occur. The contours would blur into elusive silhouettes as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

Hearing was next.

The harsh sounds of demanding voices and (as he vaguely recalled) a sudden cracking sound followed by splintering pain in his real arm faded to echoing resonance, eventually dissolving into a muffled blanket of dim vibrations.

Taste and smell left at about the same time. All there was to perceive was the impression of metallic blood, which trickled from his mouth and permeated his overloaded senses until he couldn't tell where it began and reality ended.

Touch, regretfully, never died away.

Injected drugs forced him back onto the side of consciousness and he dangled, suspended there by a cruelly thin thread in a crushingly endless cycle. The nauseating agony that had been slowly fading to ice started up again as Luke began to make out the interrogation room again. He listened to the faint, agonized sound of his own choked breathing as he fought to keep compressing and expanding broken ribs.

He began to dimly make out the sounds of someone's voice again. ". . . ose . . . auth . . . zation . . .just . . . another hour . . . ssion to be over . . . enough for the moment . . . this done _now_." And then nothing. Either he was dying (and strangely, his vision kept becoming sharper) or they had stopped for the moment.

Luke's vision had, sadly, progressed to the point of being able to perceive an ignited lightsaber slashed a blazing streak of viridian across his line of sight. He wondered if it were a hallucination. Since when did the Empire have lightsabers?

It moved up into his shoulder.

_Guess not_, Luke barely had time to think, before all avenues of rational thought were cut out from under him.

* * *

Soontir Fel entered the interrogation room.

A severely battered Luke was tied to a column in the center of the room, his body trembling with strain as electrical shocks were delivered by an electrojabber set on its lowest setting – which wasn't actually that low. Fel didn't even know if Luke was conscious; his eyes were closed, and his head hung limply down.

Fel looked away.

"I need to talk to you." He gestured brusquely at the interrogator, a middle-ranking Imperial whose name he didn't know.

The interrogator motioned for a subordinate to take over and stepped to the side with Fel. "What is it?"

"I have new orders for you," Fel said calmly. "I want the prisoner moved to bloc 7K3."

The interrogator raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"We're reconfiguring. You know how the Admiral is always on our case about efficiency and all that."

He nodded sympathetically. "I suppose that's authorization enough for me, then. If you'll just wait another few minutes for this session to be over. . ."

Fel gave a pointed glance towards Luke's direction. "That's enough for the moment. I want this done now."

The interrogator paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, sir; it's Admiral Talinia's orders. The prisoner is to be given no respite. You know how these Jedi are – start cutting corners and before you know it, they've conjured a blaster out of thin air and shot up the ship."

"He hardly looks capable of that," Fel said. But he had no choice, and in any case, how much would a few minutes matter?

"Feel free to stay, sir," the interrogator said. "I could explain the process to you. It's all about the drugs, really."

"Is that so?" Fel snapped.

The other didn't seem to notice his tone. "Yes, sir. There's two major ones we're using right now. The hallucinogens, and the anti-hallucinogens. The hallucinogens are used for, well, hallucinations."

There was a crackling sound, and Fel whirled around. The electrojabber had been turned up higher, and it was now forming a long arc of green light. Fel opened his mouth, irrationally, to stop him, but it descended into Luke's shoulder too quickly. He didn't make a sound – just slumped and went completely limp.

"A perfect example, sir. To _us_, it looks like an electrojabber. But to the prisoner, it's likely something different altogether. Like a turbolaser, or green lightning, or any thing else, really, made of green light."

"That's useful?" Fel asked coldly.

"That's where the anti-hallucinogens come in. You see, the hallucinations are useful for breaking the prisoner, but he'll obviously not be in a fit state to answer questions. When we use the anti-hallucinogens, the prisoner becomes more rational and able to communicate with us."

"All right, he's unconscious," Fel snapped, unable to restrain himself any longer. "Perfect time to move him without taking chances. I'll need a stormtrooper to come with me."

Whether it was the practicality of his argument or the look on his face, the interrogator did not protest. One of the subordinates hit the release button for the column restrains, and a stormtrooper moved forward.

Fel motioned for the stormtrooper to go ahead of him. He did so, half carrying, half dragging Luke. When they reached the intersection between the correct hallway and the docking bay, Fel pulled out his blaster and took aim.

In his right hand was a blaster, set on kill, which he had taken from one of the weapons rooms that as an officer he had access to. In his left was an injection of a certain anesthetic that had the fortunate side effect of wiping out its user's memory for two to three standard hours that he had swiped from medical bay.

A simple plan, but effective.

Luke was one the wrong side, it was true, but Fel had known him well all those years ago. He wondered what his younger self would have said if he had known that one day he would supervise the torture of his reckless, loyal, innocent friend one day. Fel knew this – Luke would never stand by and let this happen to him, even if the Rebels ordered it.

Luke would never reveal anything anyway. It was only ending his suffering a little faster.

The blaster was meant for Luke, but Fel had no intention of being caught murdering such an important prisoner. The stormtrooper would be hidden in a supply closet across the hall, with the drugs injected and no memory of Fel's crime. It would mean certain execution for him, but then, Fel was no longer a bleeding heart Rebel. What was a stormtrooper compared to Luke Skywalker?

He fired the blaster.

The shot was lined up perfectly. His skill and accuracy as a pilot and gunner were unmatched. But even a tech could make this shot, standing less than two meters away from the unconscious Jedi – an incredibly easy target.

Fel saw the red bolt of energy escape from his weapon, almost in slow motion, as if time and space were curving in . . . .

The stormtrooper crumpled to the ground.

For a moment, Fel just stood there in shock. It had been a perfect shot, he _knew_ that it had. He glanced down at the blaster, realizing something highly important that had never occurred to him until that moment.

The blaster hadn't been calibrated. It shot left.

With enough time, certain types of blasters eventually lost their accuracy. This was easily rectified by getting them calibrated every so often – it was so simple and inexpensive that it was inconceivable that simple maintenance step would be skipped. _Except_, Fel realized, _if they were stored in an out-of-the-way room accessed only by officers who prefer to purchase their own weapons anyway. _He certainly did.

All of that was irrelevant. He had just shot a fellow imperial for no good reason, unless Talinia would accept the excuse that he _missed _while trying to kill her most important prisoner. He needed a new plan.

And he had one.

He jabbed the injection into Luke's arm and started dragged him into the docking bay.

As he powered up Admiral Talinia's private transport, the _Frost Shadow_, he took a moment to reflect on how lucky he had been.

It had taken him roughly two and a half minutes to stun the two guards, bypass the computers, and drag Luke into the ship's medical bay. It would to take another few to get the ship powered up enough to fly out of the Star Destroyer.

Of course, even if he could dispose of stormtroopers without being noticed for a few minutes, Fel knew that blasting off into spacewould be just a little more conspicuous. No, the _Starkiller__'s _turbolasers, ion cannons, and tractor beams were going to be up and blasting the moment he revealed himself.

_Still, for the best pilot in the galaxy, it might be possible. _Fel could truthfully say that the only person who could theoretically give him a run for his money was lying unconscious barely ten meters from him.

The display lights signaling that the _Frost Shadow _was ready to go winked on. He disabled the force field containing the docking bay and lifted off.

Almost immediately, energy blasts from the ion cannons began to paint the starlit panorama of space that surrounded the ships. Fel efficiently swerved and dodged as he worked towards delaying the _Starkiller _long enough for the navicomputer to finish. He had set it to plot a course to the closest civilized planetary system that was neutral in the fight between the Rebels and the Empire.

Pretty soon, Fel realized that if it didn't finish soon, there wasn't going to be anything left to make the jump with. Legendary pilot that he was, facing an entire deployed squadron of TIE fighters without backup was a challenge.

The alarms intensified as another glancing hit from one of the said TIE fighters impacted the ship's dying shields. The displays began to blink the message, "SHIELDS FAILING. SHIELDS FAILING. SHIELDS. . ."

"Yeah?" he yelled out in frustration. "I'll just stop getting hit, then!"

As a matter of fact, he didn't need to. Fel risked another glance at the navicomputer, and this time, it was actually fruitful. He dropped the pilot controls and lunged for the hyperdrive.

_Three . . . two . . . one . . . ._

The _Frost Shadow_'s front viewscreen erupted into white streaks, and Fel knew that they had made it.

* * *

Syal Antilles, otherwise known as Farsiria Adanis, slumped against the wall of her cell. She was fatigued and miserable, but unquestionably relieved.

She had gone through all of NRI's interrogations revealing only information that wouldn't do too much damage. The New Republic was too civilized to torture spies, even for information on Luke Skywalker, but they hadn't been above using truth drugs and lie detection equipment.

Most people were not aware of the fact that truth drugs merely impaired the judgment section of the brain; with training such as Syal's, they were almost useless. The lie detection equipment was harder to overcome, but Syal used the tactic of rationalization and omission.

It was one of her habits, as an undercover agent, to organize her thoughts when she had a spare moment.

_Number one. I told them that I'm really Syal Antilles, and that I'm spying for the Empire. _The Syal part was unavoidable. One simple check of her features would reveal that information, and she would rather give it to them as a gesture of honesty and openness if it had to come out anyway – though harder to dismiss was the look she imagined would be on her brother Wedge's face when he found out that his sister was an Imperial spy.

The "spying for the Empire" part was technically true. She was spying. And even if she was doing it in the employ of a certain organization on Xandra, she was doing it _for_ her husband, even if he didn't know it. Soontir Fel was most certainly a part of the Empire.

_Number two. I told them that Luke Skywalker is on Xandra. _That was the closest thing to a lie. Syal had focused a scenario that would, indeed, take Luke Skywalker to Xandra until _she _almost believed it. She had also told them that she knew exactly where he was on the planet's surface, but didn't know the precise name. Well, she knew where he _would _be if he were indeed on the planet's surface.

She made up some reassurances about how Admiral Talinia wanted to use his status as a political prisoner for at least a few standard months before she began any interrogation, being careful to phrase it so that it could be taken as speculation if they were paying attention. Which they weren't. Syal could see that Leia Organa Solo wanted to believe it so much that she, along with the rest of them, were practically tying the blindfolds themselves.

_Number three. I admitted to setting Luke up for his capture. _Organa Solo already knew that she did. She didn't know exactly how, but the Chief-of-State had mentioned the words "holocron" and "psychometry." Probably some forms of advanced technology that nobody was planning on enlightening her about.

That meant that NRI knew that she had trailed Luke Skywalker around for a few standard weeks, set him up to confront her the night before he left for Drinn Loekai's smuggler ship so she could slip a tracer on him, and physically follow him to the ship so she could betray him into the hands of another smuggler who presumably delivered him to the Empire.

_And finally, number four. I sounded sufficiently naïve and clueless._ After they gave her the antidote for the interrogation drugs, Syal had tried a story about how Coruscant was going to blow up if they didn't let her get to her ship and send a message to Admiral Talinia.

The NRI interrogator didn't buy it.

"_Really," he had smirked. "You seem pretty calm for someone who thinks they're going to be space dust in ten standard minutes."_

Still, the ploy had served its purpose. Hopefully they would underestimate her for her lack of subtlety in trying something so obvious, or for trying to make them underestimate her in such an unsubtle way. Either way, they could laugh about the fact that whatever she was trying to do; she was still in their cell.

They had furthermore asked her about a lot of other trivial details that wouldn't matter to anyone in the long run. But luckily for Syal, what they _didn't _ask her was if she was setting them up.

It was only a little while before General Solo yanked open her cell door and point a blaster at her.

"You're coming with me," he ordered, gesturing with the blaster.

"Why?" Syal asked, letting a note of uncertainty and panic creep into her voice.

"We're going to Xandra to find Luke," he said, as if it were obvious. Well, it kind of was.

"I said that I couldn't pick it off a map!" she protested, with just the right amount of whininess. In truth, it was difficult to keep from chortling with glee.

"That's what we've got the Force for," General Solo replied. "Now if you want to leave Coruscant—" _He doesn't know how much— _"Come on."

* * *

A/N: Next chapter: unfortunately, Luke's not out of hot water yet.


	9. Mindful

Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you I Love Dance, Mireilles3, Forever-Luke, Treenahasthal, Glace96, and Arya of Ellesmera for reviewing! Reviews are definitely an awesome birthday present :)

* * *

_It was the final match of the flying tournament — _Luke Skywalker vs. Wedge Antilles_ across the holoscreen in bold blue letters. _

_Corran himself had been edged out by Tycho Celchu in the round before the semifinals, but he was in good spirits just like any of the other pilots crowded around the holoscreen._

_The eliminated pilots and spectators had mostly finished placing their bets. Luke and Wedge were putting on their flight helmets now, climbing into the simulators._

_The announcer started speaking. Apparently, the match was to consist of a simple race through the simulated waters of a Mon Calamarian ocean. Or not so simple, if the announcer was to be believed. Luke and Wedge would not be able to shoot at each other, but their ships would be attacked by various "predators" as they made their way through various underwater obstacles at breakneck speed._

_The holoscreen flashed to numbers, counting down from ten to zero, and then they were off._

_Corran was experienced enough to appreciate the skill and reflexes it took to navigate the course. He doubted that half the pilots in the simulator room could have done it, let alone with an opponent to contend with._

_The holoscreen showed first Wedge, then Luke, then Wedge again. Both pilots were going virtually at full throttle, each unwilling to let the other take the lead. Both pilots were too good to rely on the other making a mistake._

_But Luke began to pull ahead. While they were both brilliantly skilled, without the Force, Wedge simply couldn't take some of the chances that the Luke was taking._

_But amazingly, he made a mistake._

_Luke had turned from an aquatic rock formation just a trifle too close. He had made it, but the pile exploded from the shockwaves, spraying gravel everywhere. He managed to avoid the majority of it, but a few of the pieces exploded against the side of his ship. _

_The resolution on the holoscreen was good enough to show the thin cracks running down the sides of Luke's ship. Underwater, it wasn't enough to kill him, but it could pose a serious danger if he made another misstep._

_Wedge pressed his advantage and shot through the cloud of debris ahead of Luke. At least, until a colo claw monster materialized in front of him. Wedge reversed the controls, but not quickly enough. The monster's mouth made a grab for his ship that delayed him long enough for Luke to recover and shoot past him to the finish line. There was cheering and groaning from those who won and lots money respectively._

_Wedge climbed out of the simulator first, grinning ruefully. Luke followed shortly, soaked from head to toe in water._

_Still, the two of them shook hands and offered each other sincere congratulations. Wedge frowned in confusion. "Why are you wet?"_

_Luke grinned. "Apparently, the simulator was a bit more realistic than anticipated."_

_General Salm, who had organized the event, wandered over to hand them their durasteel trophies. "I'm surprised you didn't notice the rest of its effects, Antilles."_

_Wedge winced slightly. "I guess I was too interested in the fact that I was being eaten by a sea monster."_

_The rest of the Rogues crowded around them. Corran turned to leave, but to his surprise, Luke pushed past the crowd and followed him. _

"_Corran," Luke asked him seriously, "Do you think I cheated?"_

"_Cheated?" Corran replied, even though he knew what Luke was talking about. "What do you mean?" _

_Luke's tone hadn't been accusatory. It had been questioning, as if he hadn't quite made up his mind about it either. He studied Corran, his face thoughtful. "Well, Corran, you believe in fair play. And you didn't look pleased when Wedge and I came out."_

_Corran sighed. "I don't think you _cheated_, exactly. But without training in the Force, can the rest of them really compete?"_

_Luke was too polite to mention that even _with _the Force, Corran hadn't beaten a few of those ordinary pilots. He took a different direction from what Corran expected, though. "Well, you do think Wedge has an unfair advantage?"_

"_Wedge?' Corran asked, taken aback._

"_He's got talent and reflexes that few others can match."_

_Corran frowned. "Commander Antilles might have a lot of potential, but he has more experience and time in the simulators that pretty much anyone else, as well. His ability didn't just fall from the sky."_

_Luke nodded. "Tell me Corran, how long have you spent working on your force sense?"_

_Corran grimaced. "Point taken. So, what you're saying is that there really isn't much of a difference between the Force and raw piloting talent? Both Jedi and pilots have to work hard to develop them, and no, it's not fair to those with less, but all we can do is develop our potential?"_

_Luke looked to the side slightly, past Corran. "That's my interpretation of it, more or less. Of course," he continued, smiling slightly, looking back at Corran, "you shouldn't underestimate them. Flying is made of many things, intuition and reflexes among them – but be mindful of the other ones."_

* * *

Minna Arcansite sank into the copilot's seat with a smug air. Sad, really, how Viin could see through a con faster than a pitten in front of gelmeat when it came to bounties and danger yet completely _not_ notice that his partner was stacking the sabaac deck. Viin had just gambled himself into the monthly chore of doing the messy extruder valve check.

_To be fair_, Minna mused lazily, _He's pretty absorbed with this new assignment. _

As bounty hunting partners, Viin Nord and Minna relied deeply on trust and loyalty. You couldn't work with another being if you knew they were going to shoot you in the back the moment they didn't feel that the reward was worth sharing. Cheat you at card games, perhaps, but not shoot you in the back.

Minna wondered what their next assignment _was _going to be like. It was pretty rough, taking an assignment on faith, but the contact had proven to be reliable so far with the credits. And so far, the only thing that they had to do was rendezvous with their contact in the Xandra system.

Viin glanced over at her from the pilot seat. "We're dropping out of hyperspace in twenty seconds."

Minna bit back a sarcastic comment about _just happening _to come to the cockpit at that particular moment. Instead, she opened her mouth to ask Viin about the landing site on Xandra – only to be cut off by an ominous crunch as the ship jerked.

Minna froze.

The front viewscreen melted into normal space and the frightening visage of an Interdictor Cruiser.

For a moment, Minna could only gape. Beside her, she saw Viin do the same.

Interdictor Cruisers used gravity well generators to pull starships out of hyperspace. As they had to be placed on exact hyperspace routes, they were used to bring enemy ships out of hyperspace for an ambush— but only if you knew exactly where they were going to be and how they were going to get there.

Which could meant a lot of things, but most likely that their contact had set them up.

Viin recovered enough to begin evasive maneuvering. Or he would have, if the ship hadn't been held still by a tractor beam.

"I'm getting communications," Viin barked out. Minna entered a command to perform a sensor scan that she knew to be futile, and the results did not surprise her. They had no chance of escape.

There was no way to fight an Interdictor Cruiser without any advance warning. In fact, the only way to fight an Interdictor Cruiser with a ship that size was to avoid it and take a different route. But it wasn't as if one could _anticipate_ them. There was no point in it. They were far too expensive to waste on small smuggler ships. So what was going on?

Minna did so, and to Viin's surprise, a holoscreen display winked on. It resolved itself into the image of an auburn-haired woman with slightly slanted dark blue eyes. She had delicate features, even if they were a bit too mild to be considered stunningly beautiful.

A few seconds passed in silence before she spoke. "You opened a communications link?" she inquired politely.

Viin gave her a disbelieving look. "You pulled my ship out of hyperspace and grabbed it with a tractor beam?"

The woman smiled. "That was unintentional. The black holes and star clusters surrounding Xandra on this particular side make it difficult to approach the system on any vector from the Coruscanti section of the Core save this one. But it was rather lucky you decided to drop in at this particular moment."

When it was clear she wasn't going to give another response, Viin asked, "Why?"

By that point, the ship had been dragged nearly all the way to the Interdictor Cruiser's docking bay.

"You delivered an important prisoner to Admiral Talinia, as per my request." This woman was the contact? "This is the only task for which we required your services – and after all, we can't have you squealing to any Tom, Dick, or Cracken."

* * *

Leia Organa Solo sat across from Syal Antilles, formerly known as Farsiria Adanis. Each was glaring Adumari blastswords at the other. Leia because Syal had betrayed her brother into the hands of the Empire, and Syal apparently just for the heck of it.

_The difference is_, Leia thought, _I _have_ the blaster. _No one was taking chances, especially since prison breaks tended to be frowned upon by most organized governments. A prison break that led to the successful rescue of Luke Skywalker would be forgiven; however, a prison break that had a prisoner escaping would not be looked upon quite so indulgently.

They had kept it to a very small group— only Leia, Han, and Syal. The children were at home, being babysat by Leia's aide, Winter.

Han's voice came through the _Millenium Falcon's _intercom. "We're approaching the Xandra system. Forty seconds— you might want to get up here. I'm pulling out a little early." It was a common precaution for Han; the Solos had been ambushed too many times to be unwary.

The three of them arrived at the cockpit just as Han was pulling out of hyperspace. The planet Xandra hung dully in star-studded darkness.

It had patches of green and blue, like any other inhabited planet, with a strange washed-out look. It did not have a thin veneer of silver and rust on top like many city-covered planets, but a thick gray smoke that had descended and settled in, seeming to permeate every layer of the planet, soaking through. The only sign of life on the planet was the presence of a few dimly shining lights on the surface, marking large cities in the middle of local night.

Han turned to Syal. "Any of this look familiar?"

Syal made a noise of disbelief. "Oh yeah, there's my favorite dust cloud."

Leia saw her husband open his mouth for a sarcastic reply. However, space chose that moment to flash with the illumination of neon lasers and an enormous Imperial ship.

* * *

Lunara Seras hurried across the polished stone bridge connecting the two temples. As she neared the steps up from the bridge, she slowed her pace to an even glide.

Lunara entered the temple, blithely ignoring the heavily armed red-cloaked guards at the entryway. One of them made a half-hearted attempt to get her attention but was quickly held back by his fellows, who likely remembered the last time one of them tried to question her. Suffice to say, it had involved blue lightning, charred flesh, and screaming.

It was good to be a Sith apprentice sometimes. But this was not, in fact, one of those times. Lunara resisted the urge to slow her pace further. A dignified entrance was one thing; keeping her master waiting was another.

All too soon, she had passed through the intricately carved hallways and reached the inner courtyard. It was surrounded by deceptively fragile panels of Xandrian glass, the dim light shining through, scattering swirling patches of cobalt and mauve and silver light onto the temple's walls and floor.

Lunara stepped into the courtyard. It was the one patch of truly healthy plant life for miles. Her master, Darth Cinerate, was waiting.

"Welcome, Lady Lunara," he said imperiously, the familiar slightly sibilating tone in his voice. "What tidings have you?"

"Unfortunate news, my master," she replied coldly, the apathy in her voice hiding the trepidation she felt. "Syal Antilles has been captured by the New Republic and successfully interrogated. They are heading to Xandra now, and will soon arrive."

Lunara imperceptibly steeled herself for the rage that to come.

Instead, a chilling smile crept onto Cinerate's face. "All is going well, then."

Lunara raised an eyebrow pensively, although she shouldn't have been surprised. Her master hardly chose to confide in her every scheme that wormed its way around his ghastly brain, after all. "There is more," she continued, outwardly indifferent.

"My spies have also informed me that Admiral Talinia has not been able to hold on to Luke Skywalker. Soontir Fel turned traitor and escaped with him –" Lunara didn't bother to continue, her one faint hope that this information was also part of Cinerate's plans dying out at the sight of his face, pale hideous features contorted in rage.

"That fool!" Cinerate hissed in fury. "She can't hold on to one injured, tied-up man?" His features turned frigid. "Soontir Fel is dead."

He turned to glare at Lunara, who nearly recoiled. "Arrange it!"

"As you wish, Master," she murmured with as much respect as she could muster while hastily backing away.

About an hour later, aboard a transport journeying back up into the Interdictor Cruiser above Xandra, Lunara could not wait to escape the leeches back on the ground. The other Sith had, in the past few years, been slowly Force Draining the planet's population, and it was exhausting to keep a continual mental shield up. She did get a brief respite now and then when Darth Cinerate called her into his temple (as if anyone would dare drain anything in the Master's lair).

But if possible, being ordered around and zapped with Force lightning turned out to be even more tiring.

Lunara had hurried to put out an exorbitant price on Soontir Fel's head, but now she had nothing to do but wait for someone to carry out the deed. Until then, she hoped to keep Cinerate happy by being a good little minion and taking the initiative to oversee the traffic in and out of Xandra. There wasn't much chance of messing up _that_.

"My lady?" The pilot called out from the cockpit. "We've arrived."

Lunara stood, shaking out her auburn hair, and waited for the doors to slide open. They did so, revealing a few men in officer dress. "I have come to take control of this Interdictor," she informed them severely.

To her surprise, she sensed not mutinous servility or impotent anger, but pure relief. One of them stepped forward. "Thank you, my lady," he said gratefully.

She scowled. Something must have gone wrong. "May I ask if you've been having any difficulties?" she asked, politeness layered over hard-edged durasteel.

Each officer struggled not to cringe. With a timid air, the same one that had addressed her before spoke again. "One ship – small, Corellian make – dropped out of hyperspace early. Despite our best efforts, they managed to escape into the atmosphere. With the sandstorms and the damage we did to the ship, it is highly unlikely that they managed to successfully land."

Lunara narrowed her slanted eyes. "Why didn't you give chase?"

"We did, my lady. But we were forced to break off. Our sensors don't work well in Xandra's atmosphere."

Lunara contemplated this. It was unlikely to be anyone important, and it didn't really look like they could have prevented the escape, but just to be thorough. . . . She raised her hand and saw the terror creep into the eyes of the officers in the split second before they were engulfed in lightning.

She only let them scream for a few minutes before she let them go. They lay moaning on the smooth metal floor. "I trust," she hissed deliberately, "that we will not have any mishaps in the future." Not waiting for a response, Lunara turned and headed for the command center. Just in case, she decided that there really was no need to inform her master about the escape.

It probably wasn't important.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so this is a fairly short and uneventful chapter. But I plan a longer, more exciting update this weekend, so it won't be too long. Hopefully I'll get it finished in time before I go to school again!


	10. Dust

Chapter 10: Dust

A/N: Thanks so much to Treenahasthaal, I Love Dance, Arya of Ellesmera, and Glace96 for reviewing!

* * *

Han kept the _Millenium Falcon_ as level as he could during her atmospheric descent. They had barely been able to avoid or shoot down the ships trying to disable the _Falcon_, and only then because Han had dropped out of hyperspace early.

As unpleasant as it looked, the dusty atmosphere of Xandra worked towards their advantage. The ship's database noted that it contained some metallic compound in it that obstructed sensor scans – but that also meant that it was nearly impossible to get visuals from more than a few kilometers away or detect without the aid of the Force the landing beacon that the _Falcon_ was currently making her way toward.

It was convenient to have a Jedi wife at times like these, on an unfamiliar planet with no map or directional guidance other than "feelings". As famous as the Solo luck was, there was no harm in confirmation, particularly when a brother-in-law was currently at the nonexistent mercy of the Empire.

Han sat in silence for a little while, making only minor adjustments to the ship's course. Eventually, the ship broke through the clouds, and Han could see a nearly empty landing platform at the edge of what appeared to be a small town. The drab shades of the grey ground, the grey sky, and grey plant life matched the low, drab, buildings.

"Doesn't look like a vacation spot," he commented.

Syal smiled sardonically. "Afraid Skywalker's having the time of his life sipping ruby biels on the beach without you?"

Han turned his attention to the controls, and they touched down roughly, but miraculously in one piece.

To Han's surprise, there had been no reaction from the local inhabitants. No blasting turbolasers, no armed security forces coming to arrest them for landing without authorization. He could see the same confusion mirrored on both Leia's and Corran's faces, although Syal showed no surprise.

"Syal, is it safe for us to leave the ship?" Han asked. Even if they could not trust her answer, it was unlikely that they would run into a trap, seeing as Leia picked a virtually random beacon off a planetary surface that stretched for hundreds of thousands of square miles.

"Oh, yes. The locals are harmless. The Empire doesn't bother keeping tabs on these small rural towns, anyway." Han glanced at Leia, who shrugged.

Just in case, they decided to bring Syal.

The air of Xandra was dry and smelled stale, as if the wildlife hadn't quite been able to keep up with the task of filtering and it had grown old without use. It was warm, though, with the morning sun rising over a long, jagged mountain range that bordered the horizon, struggling to penetrate the dull swirls of dust.

There was a square, compact building to the left of the docking bay labelled "Customs" over the doorway – not illuminated or lit but merely painted. Inside, there was a thin, balding man seated at a simple wood desk. He gave them a short stare then dropped his eyes again to the slightly unkempt pile of flimsies sitting in front of him.

Leia approached the desk. Han edged forward a bit in case the man pulled out a blaster, which was beginning to look less likely every passing moment.

"Excuse me?" she asked politely. The man looked up. "We've just landed."

He shrugged in indifference. Han and Leia exchanged looks of uncertainty.

They left the building and made their way onto the narrow dirt streets of the town, walked by only a few Xandrese. Most were human, and all had their heads down. The few they tried to approach responded with blank stares or fearful silence.

Xandra had an unearthly feel, as if nobody was really _there_ and the dry wind had blown away not only the dust but souls with it.

Back in the _Falcon_, Leia had commented uneasily that the Force felt strange on Xandra. Han hadn't known what she had meant. The Force _always_ seemed weird to him.

"Syal," he asked. "Do you know what's going on?"

Syal Antilles shook her head. "I do know that you're not going to get anything useful out of anyone here. I'm pretty sure the other side of the planet is halfway coherent, but at least you were lucky enough to land close to the Imperial garrison. Officially, Xandra is neutral. But nobody cares enough to come close enough to figure out that the Empire has a small base."

She paused for a moment. "I'm still at a loss as to how you're planning on rescuing Skywalker. Even if it's small enough to hide from the New Republic, it's _not _small enough to overpower with two Jedi if you're planning on taking him alive, and sneaking him out isn't going to be easy."

Leia shrugged. "We'll figure something out. We've got the element of surprise, after all. Even if they did try and blast us into space dust up there, I'm sure they didn't actually expect us to land in one piece."

* * *

"How's he doing?" Fel asked the sole medical droid in the compact medical bay of the _Frost Shadow_. The ship he had stolen from Admiral Talinia had been been stocked with medical supplies but not a bacta tank.

The medical droid swiveled its white triangular head over to look at him. "The patient is badly injured."

Fel glanced down at Luke's battered and still form, stretched out onto one of the beds. "I figured that out for myself, oddly enough."

The medical droid continued as if there had been no interruption. "He has numerous lacerations, contusions, burns, and fractures. Likely psychological damage as well. He is also suffering from copious blood loss."

"And that means?"

"Without bacta, he will last another day, perhaps two."

Fel sighed. The _Frost Shadow_ had also been equipped with a pair of caged, live yslamiri in the cockpit, but Fel hadn't killed them. He was hoping to keep Luke tied up as soon as he had recovered, to bargain with the New Republic for his safe release. However, it looked like that wasn't going to work.

Fel glanced at the nearest chronometer. They would be dropping out of hyperspace in a couple of minutes, so he would have time to kill the yslamiri before returning to normal space.

As he made his way up to the cockpit, Fel mused that it might have been for the best. Luke Skywalker had an annoying habit of being able to do things he shouldn't, and it might work better in the long run to just surrender and trust him to be a noble Jedi. Which, looking at history, seemed to be a safe bet.

Fel pulled out his blaster and shot the yslamiri, a kinder fate than just shoving them into hyperspace. He glanced at the display. Ten seconds until normal space.

The ship gave a violent shudder.

Or not.

Meanwhile, Lunara was sitting in one of the nerfhide upholstered chairs in the command center. So far, there had been a few inconsequential visitors to Xandra en route from Coruscant. After interrogation, overseen by Lunara herself, they had been promptly disposed of.

Another alarm went off, and she didn't bother getting up. If the crew found anything useful, they would no doubt inform her.

She caressed one of her two lightsaber blades as she waited for something to happen. Like many of the Sith based down on Xandra, Lunara could fight equally well with both hands and wielded one lightsaber in each. During combat, she held a long indigo blade in her right hand, a hue with a bit too much purple in it to match her eyes. In the left, she used a red blade of the same length. With the color identified as Sith, it tended to intimidate the opposition.

She spent the next few minutes in silence, until her comlink chimed. She stretched out a pale arm and turned the volume on. "Lady Lunara," the voice crackled out, "You're going to want to see this. Docking Bay 3."

Lunara rose, if for no other reason than to severely chastise the man that had addressed her so impudently. But as she headed towards the docking bay, she could feel through the Force that something important was going to happen. She reached out her Force sense and felt something . . . curious. It was the dimmed presence of another Force-user. They had captured a Jedi, perhaps? Her master would be pleased.

Lunara entered the docking bay. A small group of armed and uniformed men were surrounding a sleek ship, painted a mottled silver and white. She gave a curt nod to the group. "What is it you wanted me to see?"

One of them led her into the ship. Electrocuffed and with a blaster shoved into his back was a man Lunara recognized from the history holovids as Soontir Fel. Interesting, to be sure, but she was relatively sure that he wasn't Force-sensitive. At least, he was not the one she was sensing.

The man continued on to another room of the ship, however, and Lunara followed. Lying on a bed with no less than six blasters trained on him was Luke Skywalker.

* * *

Luke Skywalker stared at the beautifully arched ceiling of the room he was in not by choice, but because he was tied down to a stone table.

It was the type of stone table that funeral caskets and coffins were placed on, cold and smooth, in a room illuminated by eerily flickering candles. The ceiling was a dome of rippling glass in various shades of purple, inlaid with a silvery mineral in a swirling pattern that reflected the candlelight.

The room had an ancient feel to it, untouched by modern technology. Luke wasn't even restrained with electrocuffs or yslamiri, or guards – just plain rope. Not that that wasn't good enough to do the job.

For the first time in a long time, he could feel the Force again, but it wasn't the usual warm bath of light. If he had the energy, he would have shivered at the coldness that permeated the tepid air of the temple.

Luke had had enough experience with battle wounds to feel, even through the terrible numbness, that they had given him only minimal treatment. He probably wouldn't even be awake right now if they hadn't flooded his system with drugs.

Luke remembered a trip to the medics he had once taken after he had accidentally crushed his hand on a mission for the Rebellion. They had given him a numbing injection, but he had been awake when they put the bones back into place. The whole time, he had known there was something wrong; a sharp pain at the back of his mind told him that something was happening to his hand even as the painkiller reduced all feeling in his body to almost nothing.

Luke could vaguely sense the Force, but it would do him no good. He had tried many times to reach for the familiar energy, but whatever drug that they had given him was also killing his concentration.

It was not as though the Force kept slipping out of his grasp. It felt more like he was making random lunges in the dark, and couldn't seem to remember where it actually was or how to get there. Yet he could feel it in the periphery of his mind, and knew it was there.

Luke heard the door creak open. He wondered if the Imperials had come again to make him suffer. It seemed a little counter-productive to give him a painkiller, but he couldn't begin to guess at their plans.

No doubt they would tell him why he could feel the Force again, if not access it. He realized with a painful jolt that he didn't remember how he had arrived in the strange room. The last thing he remembered was Soontir's face, but the image seemed so long ago.

The slow footsteps stopped close to Luke. He turned his head a few degrees. It was enough to see the cloaked figure that towered above him. Luke jerked. The man's face reminded him of Emperor Palpatine's, with yellow snakelike eyes bulging out from wrinkled and reptilian features. Yet even as he stared into his face, he could see that the man was not Palpatine.

"I'm glad you've joined us, Luke Skywalker," he whispered, a grin spreading across his repulsive features. "I am Darth Cinerate. You are no doubt wondering why you are here. I had planned to kill you, but I believe you'll prove to be useful."

He paused and took in a deep breath. "Yesssssss," he hissed. "The Force is strong in you."

Before Luke could fully comprehend the fact that a Sith lord was standing before him, Cinerate leaned closer to him and raised a hand crackling with glowing crimson power. He brought it down onto Luke's chest.

The painkiller meant _nothing_ now.

He opened his mouth now, suffocating, in too much pain to scream as the life and Force were pulled out of him.

His senses heightened to an unbearable point. Just when Luke knew his battered body could take no more abuse, it stopped. He managed a choked cry of agony then, drawing in an icy breath. His body was no longer numb.

He lay there shaking in relief and pain. Relief, because it was over, but also because he could _feel _again.

But before he could defend himself in any way, Cinerate's hand came down upon his chest again and Luke's vision crackled with red lightning.

* * *

The _Millennium Falcon_ skimmed low over the barren earth of Xandra, all systems set to minimum in order to avoid detection. Even though some component of the earth and air played havoc with both biological and mechanical sensors, with Luke on the line, the _Falcon_'s occupants hadn't wanted to risk it.

Inside the ship, Leia perched on the edge of the copilot's seat, concentrating for all she was worth on the elusive energy called the Force. Times like these, she regretted not putting more effort into her Jedi training. She felt a momentary stab of emotion distract her. _When we get Luke back_, she promised herself, _I'm going to make time to train at the Academy with him_.

Wrenching herself back to the task at hand, Leia sensed a momentary flicker of life. "Fifty kilometers to the southeast," she estimated.

Han glanced at the front viewscreen, and corrected the course. "Hills," he commented. "Makes sense."

Syal had given them a general idea of where the garrison was, but she couldn't pinpoint it. However, Leia, with her rudimentary abilities, could sense how few life-forms seemed to exist on the surface of Xandra. But she realized that the garrison had to have living beings inside it, ones that she could sense. Neither of them had much formal training, but it was fairly simple to sense a cluster of life among the dust.

After barely any time at all, Han landed, and the Falcon was tucked into a small depression on one of the russet hilltops.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time to lock the ship down and pull some photographic camouflage netting over it. It was an overused trick, but almost impossible to counter without advanced sensors.

The four of them set off southeast. There was no trail; they followed the direction of the steadily growing feeling of life. Before long, the dusty earth was kicked up and swirled around their feet, caking the bottoms of their boots and creeping up their clothing. It was nearing nightfall, but the orange sun still persistently spread warmth through the unpleasantly dry air.

Leia's throat was beginning to burn from the irritation. She briefly considered taking a drink of water from the compression bottle at her waist, but all thoughts of her discomfort were driven out of her mind by the shriek of a squadron of TIE interceptors.

They dove to the ground, Han pulling Syal down with them. For once, Leia was thankful for the dust. As they were coated in it, the TIEs probably wouldn't be able to visually detect them even if they were intently studying the ground. Still, she waited with baited breath until the noise of the starfighters got louder and louder, then sharply faded away.

Leia spoke for the first time in the better part of an hour, her voice hoarse. "We're getting closer."

Han nodded in acknowledgement. She vigorously shook out his cloak, but the dirt still clung doggedly to the woven fabric.

They headed up the hillside again. Leia was hoping that they would reach the garrison before nightfall; a glowrod would show up too clearly, considering the fact that the even the tallest specimens of Xandra's sickly plant life barely reached halfway to her knee. The jagged rocks provided their only cover.

Nevertheless, by the time they ascended up another ubiquitous slope, they came upon the source of life. The three of them pressed themselves behind a large rock. Leia took out her electrobinoculars and scanned the low valley that spread out before them.

The garrison was apparently contained in a cluster of interconnected low stone buildings and tall columnar towers. The few windows shone with harsh illumination. Leia would have never guessed that the ancient looking construct was the site of an Imperial garrison if she had not spotted a large landing pad to the side upon which sat a more modern looking durasteel building which undoubtedly housed starships and starfighters.

Han turned to her. "Do you feel anything?"

She nodded. "All the life is concentrated in that building. So, do we have a plan?"

Han opened his mouth to answer, but the words never escaped. He soundlessly slumped to the ground. Leia cried out in surprise, and then saw the dart in his neck. Before she could whirl around, she felt a painful sting somewhere around her back and her vision melted into darkness.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter…they reunite with Luke.

Spring break is over :( I'm depressed.


	11. A Promise

Chapter 11: A Promise

A/N: Thank you to I Love Dance, Forever-Luke, Mireilles3, Atlasina7, Nyx, Arya of Ellesmera, and Glace96 for reviewing!! You all totally made my day :)

* * *

Han marched down the long hallway between two stormtroopers and in front of another with a blaster pressed against his back. Leia had been shoved into a prison cell, but Han was being taken through long corridors to someplace different. He took some comfort in the fact that if they wanted to kill him, they probably would have done so in front of his wife. Or at least without playing a game of follow-the-leader all through the castle.

They led him outside and up a narrow staircase that wound around a large columnar tower. Xandra was much more pleasant during the nighttime; the air was pleasantly warm, and the dust had mostly settled. Han couldn't have cared less about the weather, though.

They shoved him through a pair of ornate bloodwood doors into a large room with flickering candlelight. His eyes were immediately drawn upward to the magnificent arched glass ceiling, which threw mauve and silver shadows onto the stone walls. His gaze traveled back down, resting on a slight figure laying on an intricately carved slab of stone at the end of the room.

Han took a step forward.

The stormtroopers did not restrain him or follow, so he slowly crossed the room. The man lying on the stone was very still, blood trickling down his body and onto the surface upon which he lay. But Han recognized him easily. It was Luke.

"He needs treatment," said one of the stormtroopers mechanically.

Han waited, then did a double take. "Do I look like a medic to you?"

"The base medic is indisposed," the stormtrooper said.

"And no one else on the entire base is qualified."

"There is little need for medical treatment here."

"Do you have medical supplies?" Han asked, shaking his head in disbelief. His knowledge extended about as far as C-3PO's capacity for subtlety, but he was willing to bet his best effort beat the stormtroopers'.

Another stormtrooper deposited a large case on the floor and stepped back.

Han muttered under his breath and opened it. Inside was synthflesh, injection needles, and various types of drugs. One, fortunately, was labeled bacta. It wouldn't be anywhere near as effective as submersion in a tank, but even topical bacta could do a whole lot for a being.

He picked up one of the glylocal patches. Glylocal was a stimulant and pain suppressant so powerful that most smugglers wouldn't even touch the things. Han placed it on Luke's arm and waited.

Luke came to with a wordless cry of pain, struggling weakly for a moment against the ropes that tied him down. Han grabbed the surgical knife from the case and started cutting the bindings, half surprised that the stormtroopers made no move to stop him. "Easy, kid," he said, looking into Luke's eyes. They were like kaleidoscopes of blue glass, shaken and disoriented.

Luke lay still, and Han finished cutting the ropes. They had been tied too tightly, and left long, red lines where Han peeled them off. Still, they looked insignificant next to the long burns and deep wounds on his skin.

"You're not looking so good," Han commented, wondering if Luke heard him.

Luke opened his mouth, but Han interrupted. "Seriously, kid, save your strength," he said. "Don't try to speak." He touched Luke's jaw. He could see that the inside of his mouth was torn up with burns.

Luke was breathing unevenly "Han?" he whispered with difficulty, as usual ignoring Han's advice.

"Yeah, it's me," Han said. "Sorry if this stuff stings." It wouldn't, of course, after the glylocal.

"Why . . . are you here?"

"Uh, isn't that obvious?" Han asked, looking at Luke's limp, battered form.

"How did you know?"

"Some spy told us that you were on this planet," Han said vaguely. Even if Luke seemed to be getting more lucid, it probably wasn't a good idea to get into a long discussion about Syal Antilles. "I expect we'll escape soon enough," he said loudly, in the general direction of the stormtroopers.

"Leia?" Luke asked.

"She's here too," said Han. "You didn't expect us to let you have all the fun by yourself, did you?"

"'Course not," Luke said quietly, and fell silent at that.

Han had come to rely on Luke's uncanny ability to materialize at the last minute and save the day. But now, as he looked up at Han, desperately hurt but looking so relieved that Han was here with him, Han felt what he felt when he silently promised one of the kids that nothing bad would happen to them.

* * *

The Spartan confinement cell contained no furnishings save three thin cots, pushed up against the rough stone walls. The room was roughly ten by fifteen meters, with a low ceiling and no windows.

The sole occupant of the cell, Baron Soontir Fel, had taken a seat on one of the cots, his back to the wall. When the men in uniforms Fel had not recognized had boarded his ship and seen Luke Skywalker, he was sure that he was done for. But after their initial reaction of hostility, they had communicated with what Fel presumed to be their base onplanet, which had apparently told them that he was to be trusted.

That was news to him.

They had then politely escorted him to a ship that descended down to Xandra and brought him to their base, then asked him to wait in the room he was currently in for "debriefing".

Fel obviously hadn't protested when they decided to be friendly rather than shoot him or tie him up, but he had a feeling that their behavior was going to change as soon as they figured out that he had no idea who they were.

Fel started slightly as the door swung open, revealing a person that he had not expected to see.

His wife, Syal Antilles.

Fel drew a breath in surprise. Syal's features were as delicately beautiful as ever, though he could not, regretfully, say the same for her hair. It was far shorter than he remembered it, artificially colored blue, and tightly curled until it stood out from her head in stiff ringlets.

Before he knew it, he was standing in the center of the room, embracing her. All the emotions he had suppressed over the last few days – fear, regret, loneliness, confusion – were rising up again. Admiral Talinia and the Star Destroyer, even the _Starkiller_, the ship where he had spent the last year, melted away.

At first, Syal leaned into his arms, the side of her face pressed against his shoulder. However, it was only a few seconds before she pulled away and looked up into his eyes. "Soontir," she began, "when you hear about what I have done, I'm afraid you won't be so pleased to see me."'

He creased his eyebrows. "I find that hard to believe." When his wife didn't return his warm smile, it faded. "Does this have something to do with the fact that these people seem to think I'm on their side?"

Syal sighed, and pulled him down to the cot he had been sitting on. Slumping against the wall, she looked at him with a grim expression on her lovely face. "Yes," she replied. "We have to talk."

"What's going on, Syal?"

"It started so suddenly. Remember when I lived with you, on the _Starkiller_?" Syal didn't give him a chance to answer her rhetorical question. "I told you that I left to go on a long-term mission on Coruscant. It was true. But what I neglected to tell you was that the mission was not ordered by Admiral Talinia. It was ordered by the people that own this base, the Sith.

Fel's mouth fell open, but Syal didn't let him interrupt. "You have to understand that I never really wanted to do this. One day, they kidnapped me off the _Starkiller_ and told me that they would kill you if I didn't join them."

Fel's mind was whirling, reeling, with the new information. His wife had betrayed the Empire? She hadn't done it for the same reason he had, though. But still – she had said that they would kill him?

"And you believed them?" he asked her, his voice remaining measured and calm.

Syal nodded. "They had snatched me away from one of the hearts of the Empire with no trouble. I believe they would have killed you had I not agreed." She brushed back a strand of flyaway hair with her slender hand. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I knew you had no love for the Jedi or the New Republic, and the Sith seemed to be an effective way to take them down. I agreed to help them, and I led them to believe that you were on their side as well, only waiting for the right moment to leave Admiral Talinia, in the meantime doing as much damage as you could. I knew I was betraying the Empire . . . but I did not know I was betraying you."

He frowned again. "Why didn't you tell me, if you thought I would agree?"

"I didn't think that you would. Despite what others think, I know that you do not switch loyalties without good cause. But I'm your wife. I thought that their goals were similar to the Empire's, and I could never let them kill you."

"Then, why do you think you betrayed me?"

"You came here with Luke Skywalker! My mission was to give him to Viin Nord so he could sell Luke to Admiral Talinia and she would kill him. Why would you rescue him, if you truly believe in destroying the Jedi?"

Fel grimaced. "It was a bit of a spur-of-the moment decision. Yes, I am questioning the principle that ends justify the means, right now. But if I wrecked their plans with Talinia, wouldn't they figure out that you really _weren't _telling me anything?"

"Darth Cinerate, the leader here on Xandra, ordered me not to tell anyone about my mission. Not even you. The Sith know that you didn't know; they wanted Talinia to get her hands on him, so in their view, you were loyal. You saw Luke Skywalker, a valuable asset to the cause, and secured him for them. By some bizarre twist of fate, you have proven your loyalty."

Before Fel could fully process that, there was a crisp knock at the door. A woman with reddish-brown hair and oddly shaped blue eyes entered.

"Welcome to our base, Baron Fel," said the woman told Syal and Fel graciously as she led them through stone corridors. "I hope the quarters we have for you are satisfactory. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to tell a servant."

She opened a low wooden door under a molded marble archway.

Fel noted that the luxurious furnishings followed a common color scheme of royal blue and light cream. The walls were not stone like the rest of the base but plated with durasteel. There was only one, fairly large room, as lack of space was one of the downsides of a secret base. However, it was furnished with two datapads on a desk against one of the smooth walls.

"This room is more than satisfactory," Syal answered smoothly. "It is lovely. Thank you for your consideration and hospitality."

Lunara gave her a polite smile. "Not at all. As one of our most talented and dedicated agents, we are happy to receive you." She paused meaningfully. "Have you considered your future role in our organization? I recall that you have expressed a desire to cease activities as a long-term spy."

"I'm afraid I haven't had much time for reflection over the last couple days," Syal evaded.

Lunara smiled again, but this time with a slightly harder edge. "Our cause is in need of our agents."

"Perhaps we could stay for a little while and use Soontir's expertise of Imperial procedure to evaluate the security here at the base. After that, we would both be willing to go on whatever missions Lord Cinerate sees fit."

Lunara nodded approvingly. "An excellent idea. Baron Fel's knowledge will prove highly useful. And after you have had a chance to rest, we will accept your generous offer of field service, though Baron Fel will likely remain here. He knows much about security, I'm sure, and we'll want to take full advantage of that."

Syal nodded in a friendly manner.

"Well then. I'll leave you two alone for now. You are certainly free to wander the castle for your security evaluation if you like; here's a level two authorization chip. You'll need it to access most areas of the base. A few places are still restricted to you, but if you would like to inspect them, I can obtain for you further authorization. There's a map inside the desk that you can consult. Your meals will be delivered to your rooms, and someone will check in with you daily."

She paused, and then added, "Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

This time, Fel spoke. "Actually, there is one thing. . . ."

* * *

A/N: Next chapter: Han and Leia work on a plan to get Luke out


	12. Plots and Purposes

Chapter 12

A/N: Thank you so much to I Love Dance, Treenahasthaal, Forever-Luke, xoxo, and Yazz for the reviews!

* * *

"Please," Jaina Solo said sweetly. "I would really like to come, if that's all right with you, Wedge." She batted her eyelids and looked up at him.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Jaina," Wedge hedged. He was late for an important meeting, and Jaina, even without her two brothers, could be…intractable.

Or in other words, Wedge was certain that her innocent facial expression was hiding something far more sinister. Like a certain stuffed Ewok doll behind the door . . . or embarrassing action figures staging a mock battle underneath General Cracken's chair . . . or even something as simple as a bucket of water placed over an opportune doorway.

She had proved time and time again in the past few days that she had inherited Han's drive for mischief and creativity in carrying it out, combined with Leia's stubbornness and killer instinct.

Winter was on Mon Calamari, and the trying task of watching the Solo children had been delegated to Wedge and Iella.

"Please?" Her lips trembled slightly.

"You'll have a great time with Hobbie, won't you?" Hobbie nodded energetically behind him. The fact had been made clear to every one of Wedge's subordinates that the commander had six thousand ways to make them miserable if they didn't bail him out of babysitting duty.

"I didn't have a great time last time!" Her voice's pitch rose a few degrees. "I don't want to stay with Hobbie! I want to go with you."

Wedge could sense a tantrum coming on, and he silently prayed to the Force that it wouldn't.

It did.

Jaina's eyes filled with rebellious tears, and she glared up at him with large brown eyes. "Ever since my parents left, nobody wants me around. I want to know where they are and when they're coming back! WHERE are they?"

Wedge sighed, more sympathetically this time. "I do want you around. But this is a very important meeting—"

"Where's Uncle Luke?"

"He'll be back soon," Wedge said, hoping that they would be. "He's a Jedi. Jedi always beat the bad guys, remember?"

"He isn't beating the bad guys right now," said Jaina.

"What do you mean?" asked Wedge quietly.

"There was an old man with red eyes. I dreamed about him."

"What was the old man doing?"

"Hurting Uncle Luke," said Jaina simply. "Uncle Luke is very cold, and he can't move. He can't hear me."

Wedge exchanged a disquieted look with Hobbie. "It's just a dream," he said, hoping it was true. But Jaina looked unconvinced. "But even if it is true, your mom and dad are coming. They will put the evil man in prison and bring Uncle Luke back here."

Wedge sighed. "Okay, you can come to the meeting with me." He watched a relieved Hobbie furtively edge towards the door.

Jaina cheered up slightly on the way to the seminar room. Wedge had no doubt that she was worried, but she was unquestionably shamelessly manipulating him.

When they arrived, he sat her down in a seat next to his and firmly told her to remain quiet, without much hope. After the others filed in, they exchanged the usual pleasantries and began. Wedge could imagine that Jaina was bored senseless by all the classified information being shared in the meeting. However, she indeed kept quiet – for a time.

One of the Captains leaned forward and addressed the table. "No secrets between us, right?" she asked melodramatically.

"I haven't got any," Booster said sardonically from somewhere across the table.

"Wedge is made of plastic," Jaina hissed to the Major beside her.

The others stared. Wedge sank down further into his seat and consoled himself with the fact that as soon as Han and Leia came back, it would be over.

* * *

Leia paced the dirt floor of the cramped prison cell. She had been sealed behind a partially translucent yellow-orange energy field, but Han had been taken away. Leia was not one to lounge around and worry, but there was nothing else she could do. Also, she had a strong suspicion that her husband, wherever the stormtroopers had taken him, wasn't enjoying himself either.

Her constant movement had begun after the pounding headache from the tranquilizer dart had ended. She just Leia couldn't understand how the Imperials had snuck up on them without her sensing a thing.

A more optimistic thought hit her. Maybe she would see her brother again!

But Leia didn't even know if Luke _was_ on Xandra, let alone in this particular base as Syal had said. The fact that she wasn't in the cell with them suggested that she was conspiring with their captors. There were ways to beat truth drugs, after all, even though Leia had sensed no deception from her.

Her thoughts wandered incessantly back to Han. What was happening to him?

Noise came from the corridor outside the cell, and Leia backed away from the energy field. A group of armed grey-uniformed men stepped into her line of vision, and the field fizzled and cut out. One of them, using the muzzle of his blaster, pushed Han into the cell with them and activated the field again.

"Miss me?" Han asked.

Leia embraced him in relief. But when she pulled away, the smile had faded from his face.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

"Luke's here," he said somberly.

There was a long pause. Leia found that her throat had closed up.

"They took me up to a creepy glass temple filled with candles. Luke was in it, and he was tied to the top of a block of stone. At first, I thought he was – not moving, but he was breathing."

"Was he injured?"

"Yes."

Another pause. "Are you going to elaborate on that?" Leia snapped. Immediately, she regretted the sharpness in her voice.

"He's been tortured," Han said reluctantly. "They wanted me to patch him up. Apparently, they _don't need medics_ over here."

Leia put her head in her hands. "How is he?"

"Not so good," said Han. "Not in any condition to help us escape, that's for sure."

"Was he lucid?" she asked, wanting to press for details. Sort of.

"Kind of halfway between lucid and drugged into incoherency," he admitted. "I gave him some bacta. He'll be okay once we bust out of here."

Before Leia could respond to that, there was a sharp noise in the corridor outside the cell. The barrier dissolved again, and Syal and Soontir Fel entered.

"Welcome to Xandra," Syal said pleasantly. "I hope the sedatives wore off?"

"Did you come here to do anything besides gloat?" Han asked curiously.

"No, that's about it," she replied. "It's so nice to be on this side of the energy field. Although, I imagine your brother-in-law would prefer to have an energy field between him and Darth Cinerate. . . . Oh, has anyone told you yet that you're being imprisoned by the Sith?"

"Why would he need a barrier between him and Cinerate?" Leia asked dangerously.

Syal smiled but remained silent.

"Soontir, you've fallen so low. First, third-rate holoscreen actresses –" Han glanced pointedly at Syal – "Then stormtroopers, and now, the Sith."

Leia noticed that Fel seemed to have something in his eye. No, wait— there was a pattern to the movement of his eyelids.

Mon Calamari blink code!

She looked slightly past him, her peripheral vision taking in his eyes. E I N G W A T C H E D F R O M B A C K L E F T C O R N E R A T T A C K S Y A L B E I N G W— _Being watched from back left corner, attack Syal_. Attack Syal?

Leia could not figure out what she had to lose, so she lunged. She hit Syal on her midriff, and she felt something shoved into one of the deep pockets of her fatigues, right before the end of a blaster hit a glancing blow on the side of her head. She hadn't been hit that hard, but her vision blinked out for a second and the world lurched.

"I'm sure that you'll have almost as much fun here as I did at NRI headquarters," Syal sneered. With that, the two of them backed out and activated the field again.

Han helped her up, giving her a questioning glance. Out of all the people likely to snap and attack an armed captor, Leia was not one of them. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered, pretending to lean into him for comfort, her back conveniently to the left corner. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a flimsi from her pocket, angling it so Han could read it as well.

_We're on your side. We have access to (monitored) Holonet. We have no plan yet, but in the mean time, will arrange a visit with your brother. It will be risky. Cinerate is draining Skywalker's life and force energy, and if you come into contact with him, he may decide to drain yours too. A meal will be delivered to you. Dissolve the flimsi into water, and if your answer is yes, stretch out your left hand._

* * *

Lunara Seras seethed all the way up the stone steps to Darth Cinerate's temple. _I'm his apprentice, yet he treats me like a common servant! Anyone could have shown that nobody Syal Antilles and her useless husband to their little room. _

However, she quashed her disobedient thoughts as she slowed her pace and entered the temple. As she made her way through the winding corridors, she allowed herself to wonder what the Master wanted. He sounded inordinately pleased, a clearly positive sign for her health.

She passed the mauve patterned stained glass panels, and entered Cinerate's courtyard. "I have arrived, my master." She knelt humbly before him. He looked better than he had for weeks. Apparently, Skywalker's energy was doing him good.

"Rise, Lunara."

She did so, bewildered. He had called her by her first name, with no title? And his tone had been almost . . . fond?

"Lunara," he repeated, stepping beside her and placing a bony hand on her arm. "There becomes a time in every man's life when he realizes that he must have concern for his legacy."

"I am not your legacy, Master?" she asked, failing to keep all of the hurt out of her voice. He was replacing her?

"No, no, you misunderstand me," he chuckled, an act Lunara didn't realize he was capable of. "I have decided to make you the mother of my heirs."

"Master?" she gasped. Cinerate apparently misread her incredulous horror as delighted disbelief.

"It is true, Lunara. You are the only one here that I trust implicitly, and all of our heirs will have boundless force sensitivity."

_Heirs?!_

Lunara walked back to the base in a haze, barely noticing the red-uniformed guards that jumped out of her path. She shook the dust out of her cloak as she entered it, and wandered through the halls, taking a roundabout route to her quarters. No more training, only virtual house arrest for the rest of her short life. After she had produced a few heirs, without value as his apprentice, the day that he got angry at her was the day she died. Lunara was good, but she would admit any day that she couldn't stand up to Cinerate.

She passed a security observation booth for the prisoner cells, when a strange movement caught her eye. It was one of the twin observation centers for the high-security group of cells. While the one that she had led the Fels through had observed from the right wall, this booth observed from the left.

Leia Organa Solo was facing towards the holocam, surreptitiously dropping a thin object into her water.

_Why would she do that? _

Lunara rewound the tape and focused in. The object was thin, with a relatively large surface area. . .a flimsi? The Solos and Horn had all been searched, and no such item had been found and confiscated, which meant that they had to have acquired the item at the base.

Interesting.

* * *

Commander Wedge Antilles winced as the pebble hit the glass side-table for the millionth time. "Jacen," he began, "The briefing is going to start in a few minutes. Don't you think it's time to put that away?" From his left, Mirax smirked in amusement.

Jacen shook his head. "Uncle Luke says to always practice when you get a chance. See, I'm getting better." He screwed up his face and held out his hand. The pebble shakily rose up a few inches and proceeded to levitate over the glass again. It hung suspended into the air for a full half second before it plinked onto the table again.

Wedge silently vowed to take brutal and violent revenge on Luke if – when – he arrived home.

Plink.

Plink.

Plink.

Plink.

_If I ever go insane, that's the sound I'm going to hear. When they're wheeling me to my daily psychiatric visits, I'm going to describe this noise as the footsteps of rampaging Ewoks determined to eat me if I don't place my pillows at 72 degree angles—_

Wedge's mental tirade was cut short by a slamming door. A bright-eyed Twi'lek woman beckoned him towards the door. "Right this way, Commander Antilles," she chirped. "The meeting is beginning."

Wedge rose and entered the seminar room. Already occupying it were politicians, some of which Wedge knew and some he didn't. Borsk Fey'lya was seated almost at the head of the table, second only to Admiral Ackbar, who was heading the meeting. Or in other words, the respective heads of the staunch opposition to and supporters of the Chief-of-State.

"Commander Antilles," Ackbar's measured tones addressed him. "If you could please summarize the situation with Chief-of-State Organa Solo for the Senators?"

Wedge inwardly groaned. "To be perfectly honest, Admiral, there really isn't all that much to say. The Chief-of-State and General Solo discovered Master Skywalker's location, and they came to the conclusion that the risk was worth safely bringing him home."

Senator Fey'lya spoke up. "They left without consulting _anyone _else? Two of the most important people in the New Republic can't just take off. What were they thinking?"

"I couldn't answer that, Senator."

"Couldn't, or won't?"

"With all due respect, Senator Fey'lya, neither the Chief-of-State nor the General saw fit to explain their decision to me."

"Yet," the Bothan outwardly mused, "Their children are in your care. They told you _nothing_?"

Ackbar finally stepped in. "Senator Fey'lya, Commander Antilles had nothing to do with the planning or execution of the Solos' departure. In any case, we are here not to assign guilt, but to find a temporary solution."

"Very well," Fey'lya abruptly switched tactics. "I move to elect an individual to be given emergency powers to serve as temporary head of the government."

Ackbar gave him a weary look. "Very well. Would anyone like to make a nomination?"

Kark Aair'bwa, the esteemed Junior Senator from Bothawui, immediately spoke up. "I nominate Senator Fey'lya. It's clear we need a decisive and politically astute leader to get us through these trying times. . . ."

* * *

A/N: Luke and Leia see each other again next chapter; I promise!


	13. Reckless Choices

Chapter 13:

A/N: Thank you so much to Forever-Luke, I Love Dance, MrsSkywalker, Glace96, and Arya of Ellesmera for reviewing!! It make me so happy to read reviews :)

* * *

The uniformed officers pushed Leia through a low pair of carved doors into a small stone chamber. It was dimly lit, and her eyes needed a few moments to adjust. When they did, she took in the outline of a slight figure, slumped in bindings that chained him to the wall.

"Don't try anything," said the tallest officer coolly. "This room is under surveillance."

Once the door had slid closed, Leia dropped to her brother's side.

"Luke," she said quietly. He didn't stir.

Leia stood in front of him, studying him as best she could in the near-darkness. She brought a hand up to touch the side of his face, and gasped in surprise. It came away wet.

She was reflexively glancing down at her hand when the illumination brightened. Leia's bloodied hand and her brother's limp form was thrown into sharp relief, revealing the gashes and burns on his chest and arms, leaving barely any part of his skin unmarked. There were bruises on his face, and several cuts framing the right side of his still features. Blood trickled out of his mouth and down his neck.

"Luke," she repeated, more insistently. The faint rise and fall of his battered chest comforted her only slightly.

She considered for a moment that he might be better off asleep. The restraints wouldn't help any, pulling on his mangled arms and forcing him down to an awkward sitting position, kneeling on one knee with the other, obviously broken, splayed out beside him.

The door slid open behind her, and she turned. It took no small amount of her diplomat's control to avoid recoiling in shock. The cloaked man standing next to her had the most hideous face she had ever seen, surpassing even Darth Vader if measured by sheer repulsiveness. Chilling orange eyes stared out from terrible features twisted in malice.

"He won't awaken," he informed her coldly. "Not unless I want him to."

"Who are you?" Leia asked defiantly.

"My name is Lord Cinerate." The man, if that's what he was, smiled. "But I wouldn't be so impolite to the one who holds your brother's life in his hands." He took a quick step forward, and before Leia could begin to react, placed an open hand on Luke's bloodied shoulder.

His eyes flew open.

Leia _did _gasp then, shocked. Luke's eyes were dull and glazed with agony. They did not blaze with the empathy and compassion that inspired him to keep at the cause, or the enjoyment that lit up his large blue eyes when her children climbed into his lap and asked for a fourteenth game of Bantha Bash – there was only pain and exhaustion.

As Cinerate's hand lit up with lightning, Luke's face contorted in agony and he cried out, a single strangled gasp.

Leia threw herself at Cinerate, but he immobilized her with barely a flick of his fingertips. Luke shuddered in the grip of the red haze of energy, and she could only watch him suffer.

But after only a moment, Cinerate released them both. Leia dropped to her knees, but scrambled to her feet. To her utmost surprise, Cinerate waved his hand to release the restraints, and Luke slumped to the floor, still conscious, too pained to make a sound.

"The two of you may return to your cell," Cinerate told them magnanimously. "I'll send our new medic over at once."

* * *

Darth Cinerate sat back in his straight-backed chair, admiring the sculpture. It was a replica of the Marnia, the former capitol building of Xandra. That was, before the government had grown too bold and been overthrown by the Sith. The reproduction was constructed entirely of precious metals and luminous stone, worth as many credits as the original building. To Cinerate's eye, it _looked_ nicer than the original as well.

His apprentice entered. Cinerate smiled.

"_Dear_ Lunara," he began. "I have excellent news."

For a moment, Lunara didn't appear to be remotely pleased. However, her face quickly reformed itself into an appropriate expression of delight.

His apprentice's momentary slip was another sign that he had made the right decision. That and the fact that she was no longer quite as fanatically loyal as Cinerate would have wished.

He leaned forward slightly. "As you are likely aware, I have spent the last few months researching. Though I did not tell you what I was looking for, I was considering the right moment to impart this knowledge onto you." He paused a moment to prolong the suspense and enjoy the uncertainty she was attempting to conceal. "An ancient ritual, used by many of the great Sith Lords to attain power."

He watched Lunara's eyes widen.

"No doubt you have been wondering why I have not started draining Organa."

Lunara bowed her head slightly, reddish hair shifting.

"She will serve as a power sources in the ritual. Skywalker is most important, of course, but there is no reason to keep Horn." He smiled. "Since our relationship will grow so greatly, I thought that we should keep nothing from each other. So do you have anything to tell me?" That one was solely for his own amusement. He had no doubt that his apprentice had more secrets than Jabba the Hutt used to have dancers. Of course, he was choked to death by one of them.

But at last, Lunara showed some proper acting skills. She merely gazed up at him innocently. "No, my lord. Nothing at all."

"Very well, I hadn't thought so. In that case, you're dismissed."

She backed out of the room.

A shape materialized from a dark corner and formed itself into the shape of a dark-haired, muscular man. His name was Ronas Cirth, and he was to be Darth Cinerate's new apprentice.

"She does not know that there will be a third sacrifice," Cinerate remarked to his student. But then again, Ronas did not know the true purpose of the ritual either.

In reality, there was no ritual. He had told Ronas that he intended to drain the Force power of the prisoners then use part of it to overpower Lunara's mental defenses and drain _her _power as well. But instead of using it to power a ritual, he would use it to forge pathways in Ronas's mind to give Cinerate complete control. Ronas not be able to resist any command, and Cinerate would no longer have an apprentice that could betray him.

Cinerate turned to the Marnia again. The Sith had constructed the new governmental building from solid durasteel, and it still stood today.

* * *

When Fel stepped into his quarters, he was met with an unfortunate sight.

Syal was perched at the very edge of their bed . . . with a blaster pressed into the small of her back by none other than the apprentice of Darth Cinerate.

"Lady Lunara?" Fel asked, injecting a note of disbelief in his voice. "What is this? When Cinerate hears that you have betrayed him and attacked his–"

"Don't bother," Lunara said. "I have video evidence of your corroboration with the prisoners. Quite ingenious. But Fel, you couldn't really have thought that you were the only one who knew Mon Calamari blink code."

"So, now what?"

"I want you off this rock. I am proposing that we work together and make that happen." She narrowed her slanted eyes further. "And you really don't have a choice in the matter, so it wasn't actually a proposal."

Fel gave her another look of disbelief. "You're switching sides, just like that?"

Lunara grimaced. "Let's just say that Cinerate won't need me anymore if he – oh, never mind. Like I said, you don't have any other options."

"Why don't you just kill Skywalker and Organa Solo?"

"There is no way that I can get away with that," Lunara told him impatiently. "I can't use Solo as a scapegoat. There is no way he would have the guts to end Skywalker's suffering, not to mention prevent Organa's. There's a chance Cinerate might believe he's clever enough to escape with them, though, particularly with your and your wife's help."

Fel nodded reluctantly. "I guess we don't have much of a choice."

Lunara withdrew the blaster. "So, what's the plan?"

"We could holocomm Coruscant," Syal ventured. "I don't know how much use normal troops would be against the Sith, but perhaps we could contact the Jedi."

Lunara snorted derisively, but Fel ignored her. "Do you have access to a holocomm unit?"

"Yes, but that's not the point. The Jedi won't be able to take over Xandra, and I'm not so keen on them invading us."

Fel frowned. "How many Sith do you have here?"

"Thirty or forty fully trained, and perhaps half that many students. Plus, they have virtual control over the government and its ground troops."

"The Jedi Order might be small," Fel reasoned. "However, they have at least twice that many. And the New Republic wouldn't have any trouble sending forces to rescue the Chief-of-State.

"And in any case, the Sith are fighting on home ground," Lunara pointed out. "Also, we are more ruthless than the Jedi, and more willing to use . . . innovative tactics. They'll be able to fight better."

"Luke Skywalker has triumphed over them more than once," Fel argued. "Granted, he isn't exactly in top condition right now, but we can balance that out with the fact that the Sith don't know that we're not on their side. We can mislead and sabotage them."

Lunara still looked dubious. "That's what the Rebels always say about fighting the Sith. Look at Luke Skywalker. I doubt he's as immortal as they say he is, but I _know _the rest of them can't match his skill." She sighed. "But I suppose I don't have a choice either. We'll make the call tonight. I guess it won't be hard to set up camp somewhere else."

She stood up, making a quick decision. "It need to be fast. Darth Cinerate plans to perform a ritual that will supposedly bestow him with invincible power. We'll have to figure out see how fast the New Republic can get the Jedi here, hopefully without being too noisy about it. Cinerate could always decide to move up his timetable for the ritual."

Fel nodded. "Let's make the call."

* * *

"I'm afraid it's simply not possible," Acting-Chief-of-State Fey'lya informed Wedge, a note of condescension in his smooth voice.

Commander Antilles wasn't planning on giving up, but things were not looking good. "Commander Skywalker and the others are counting on us," he argued. "How can we abandon them?"

"The Solos weren't too concerned about help when they took off without seeing fit to inform us as to their plans," Fey'lya countered. "If they believed they needed help, why didn't they talk to anyone?"

"They needed to leave in secrecy! I would that it is obvious that there are _some_ who don't have Luke Skywalker's safety at the top of their priority list. Perhaps they believed that any delay could lead to his rescue being put off for a fatal amount of time. And anyway, the point is irrelevant considering the fact that they sent us an encoded message through the Holonet asking for help!"

Wedge didn't have any hope that Fey'lya would change his mind, but his plan was to incite the members of the meeting to back him up. It was a small gathering, made of mostly Fey'lya's supporters, though, and he didn't have much faith in that plan either. But if enough political pressure was put on the Bothan Senator, perhaps he would cave.

"They sent _you _a message asking for help. We, on the other hand, just can't risk the troops, Commander Antilles. We would be sending them into a hostile, unknown situation. We don't even know if they sent the message under duress."

Wedge gave him a final cold stare, aware that he would get no further with this tactic. "Very well," Wedge conceded. "But when the HoloNet hears about this," he continued. "I can't imagine they'll laud us for abandoning their heroes. And if you ask the troops, I don't think they'll have much objection to entering an unknown situation to rescuing Commander Skywalker, General Solo, and the Chief-of-State. They would possibly even consider it their duty."

Fey'lya's ears flattened threateningly. "Are you planning on having the HoloNet informed on this emergency situation, Commander? Might I remind you that your oaths as a military officer of the New Republic prohibit you from leaking classified information?"

"Then I resign," Wedge responded sharply. "I can't talk about anything that was revealed to me as an officer of the New Republic, but I didn't come here as an officer of the New Republic. I came here as a friend of the Solos and Luke Skywalker, relaying their message."

Fey'lya leaned forward. "I do not accept your resignation, Commander Antilles. At his words, armed guards moved to flank Wedge.

"You're planning on arresting me, Fey'lya?" Wedge asked icily, but without any real surprise. Fey'lya's moral navigation system had been calibrated several degrees off, but his sense of self-preservation was still right on the mark.

"To the contrary, I'm giving you time to consider the wisdom of your decision, Commander." Fey'lya smiled. "I would hate for you to make any reckless and ill-advised choices."


	14. A Dream

Chapter 14:

A/N: Thank you very much to I Love Dance, Treenahasthaal, Arya of Ellesmera, and l.s.n. for reviewing.

l.s.n.: Why, yes I do!

* * *

_It was a warm, hazy evening in early summer. The last remnants of the gold glimmered on the clear ocean water, and the sunset's brilliance was beginning to fade from the liquid sky._

_For the first time in longer than he could remember, Luke Skywalker was on vacation with his family._

_Calm voices in pleasant conversation drifted from a group of tables on the hotel's seashore patio – not made out of durasteel or reinforced metal, but natural stone illuminated by soft light. Han and Leia's were there, their presences glowing softly in the Force._

_Jacen, Jaina, and Anakin played happily on the ocean's shore and in the water, their excited voices rising in laughter. Luke was sitting on a gentle slope of the white beach as he watched them. In this late light, the sand seemed oddly rare and beautiful, changing from dull sparkling hues of ivory to lustrous silver-snow to shimmering mist._

_Growing up, he had hated sand with all his heart. But now, oddly, it didn't seem to bother him at all. Luke felt only the softness underneath him and the warm sea breeze that stirred the air around him and ruffled his hair. _

_It was perfect._

_A dripping Jaina ran towards him, screeching with laughter as both boys chased after her with something slimy. Her small feet made a haphazard line of displaced sand away from the ocean. She rushed halfway around Luke and dropped down next to him in a spray of sand, grabbing his arm for protection and drenching his right side with water._

_Luke turned to her, and she buried her face in his chest. "Oops," she said, muffled. Her arms wrapped around him, and she looked up with guileless brown eyes. Luke just smiled and hugged her back, saltwater soaking into his thin shirt._

_Anakin and Jacen reached them and sat in the sand on Luke's other side. "Let's bury Uncle Luke," Jacen suggested. The other two found this idea agreeable._

"_Lie down," Jaina ordered authoritatively. Luke stretched out lazily, and the three began to pile the sand on top of him. _

_They had reached three-quarters of the way to his shoulders before Luke began to notice the traces of a chilled mist hanging heavily over the sand. For the first time, he became aware that the sky had gone inky black and the voices from the hotel were oddly stifled. Even the air seemed to lose some of its brininess, as if a heavy blanket had been put over his senses. _

_Luke realized that he couldn't feel the Force. He stood up, or tried to. It now seemed as if the sand was weighing heavily on him, pressing him painfully into the hardening ground. He tried to call Han or Leia, but for a long moment, his body didn't seem to respond to his commands. _

_Jaina, Anakin, and Jacen were unmoving as well, their expressions still frozen in childish smiles. A tendril of dark matter rose in an agonizingly slow movement as well, hovering threateningly behind the three Solo children as if in indecisiveness. It finally lashed out at Jaina, wrapping its long strands around her body and pinning her arms to her side._

_Movement returned._

_Jaina was shrieking in terror. Jacen's and Anakin's eyes were wide with horror, and Luke exploded into action, shaking off sand as he lunged for his niece. But he was too late. She was carried out of reach. Luke called out to her with all his heart and mind. _

"_JAINA!"_

_Another tendril of the dark material enfolded him, and his voice began to echo as the scene went dark, fading into nightmarish black as he found speech once again impossible. But he could feel the Force again!_

_Jaina!_

_Jaina!_

_Jaina . . ._

_Jaina . . . ._

* * *

Jacen Solo lifted the cup of caf smoothly and flawlessly. His hours of practice had finally paid off, under the watchful eye of Jedi Cilghal. According to her, his levitation of small objects now rivaled that of the most experienced Knights.

Jacen was a clever enough to suspect that Cilghal's extravagant compliment stemmed partially from her desire to stop him from spilling more caf or dropping more pebbles onto hard surfaces, but it was welcome all the same. He had worked hard to achieve mastery, even if he wasn't quite there yet.

Yavin IV was an exceptionally good place to practice. The jungle was teeming with life, to improve sensing skills, and the temples were filled with Jedi willing to teach a hopeful student.

Since Wedge had unexpectedly gone on a business trip, it had been explained to the Solo children, they would have to spend some time on Yavin IV before their parents could come retrieve them.

Initially, Jacen had been excited, but both he and his siblings had begun to wish that their parents or Uncle Luke, or even Winter, would finally come back.

"Good job, Jacen," Cilghal congratulated him absentmindedly. Jacen was sitting, mind-numbingly bored, in her office while she did something complicated with a datapad that he neither understood nor had any desire to question.

The monotony was broken up nicely by a shrieking Jaina tearing into the room as if an enraged rancor was chasing her.

"What's going on, Jaina?" Cilghal asked patiently, calmly standing up.

"It's Uncle Luke!" Jaina said hysterically. "He's calling me, and he's in trouble!"

"What?" Cilghal asked. "What is he saying?"

"Just my name!" Jaina dropped down the floor and closed her eyes. "He sounds strange . . . ," she mumbled, features smoothing out into an expression Jacen recognized, the one that meant his sister used was being enveloped by the Force.

* * *

_Then, the darkness released him. Luke lied on a flat, reflective plane, feeling strangely light-headed. _

_As he began to sit up, another figure materialized. It was his niece! "Jaina," Luke said, relief flooding him. "Are you all right?" he asked her._

"_Yes," Jaina replied, sounding oddly puzzled. "Are _you _all right?" _

"_I'm fine," he replied automatically._

_Jaina threw her arms around him again, just as she had on the beach – before – the details were beginning to get fuzzy . . . . "We were waiting, and waiting, for you and Mom and Dad to get back," she sniffled. "Where _are _you?"_

"_Xandra." The word came to his mind, unbidden. Xandra? He was quite sure he had never heard of the place. _

_Then, Jaina gasped in surprise and drew back a little, staring at his face. Luke looked down at his reflection. A line of blood had appeared above his eye, and a cold, aching pain began to register in his mind. Another cut appeared, nearly parallel to the first, but wider. He began to feel force acting upon him, pulling him away from Jaina._

"_Uncle Luke," she cried out. "Don't go away!"_

_But he was powerless to resist. He caught the last glimpses of her face out of the corner of his eye, and the ache grew sharper, and spread to every corner of his body._

Luke Skywalker woke up.

* * *

"Lieutenant," Lunara snapped at one of the uniformed guards assigned to the prisoners' cell.

He immediately snapped his head up at her, backbone jerking in an almost comical manner as he tried to decide whether to straighten up or cower in respect.

"The security we have in place is inadequate," Lunara continued, ignoring his indecisiveness. "The prisoners have proven they are remarkably innovative for Jedi scum, and Skywalker in particular is being healed, even if he is spending all of his time drugged.

"However, I would not want to be the man on duty when Cinerate finds that the _important _prisoners have escaped." She paused to give the group an intimidating stare. "I want proposals for a new security system. In the meantime, I will personally guard the cell."

None of the guards were dim or suicidal enough to challenge her command, so they filed out as quietly and unobtrusively as possible. Lunara turned the transparency and power level drastically down so she could communicate with the prisoners.

Despite the fact that Syal and Soontir Fel had informed the prisoners that Lunara had switched sides, they still appeared wary.

Han and Leia Organa Solo were sitting close together on the cold stone floor. They scrambled to their feet when they saw Lunara. Luke Skywalker remained limp and lifeless beside them. She could see that some of Skywalker's superficial injuries had healed, and his broken bones had been knitted together by a medical droid. However, he still didn't look ready for a fight.

She stopped herself from sneering when she noticed that the two conscious prisoners had stepped protectively around Skywalker. She reminded herself to be polite. "Has he woken up yet?" she inquired courteously. She knew the answer, but it seemed to be an appropriate conversation starter.

"No," Leia Organa Solo informed her, expression guarded.

Or perhaps not. She tried again. "So, have you been thinking of a plan?"

"Actually, no," said Han Solo. "We've been playing word games this whole time. Did you know that an anagram for "General Han Solo" is "Nonlegal as Hero"? Leia thinks there's a symbolic meaning behind that—"

"Great!" Lunara cut in. "What's the plan?"

"We haven't got one," Leia admitted. "Besides breaking into the hangar and stealing a ship. But I don't see how we're going to accomplish anything else if it's only the five of us, trying to fight and protect Luke as well."

"You could always leave Skywalker here," Lunara pointed out. Somehow, she didn't think the others would go for that. But she nevertheless continued. "We could disappear into the population for a while, or even try out stealing a ship. Cinerate doesn't have air defenses covering the entire planet. But we aren't going to get _anything _done dragging around an unconscious Jedi."

"Not a chance!" said General Solo.

"There's really no point in staying here to die with him," she argued, more vehemently. She needed them to believe she wanted to escape. "There's no way he's getting out of this situation alive anyway. Can you think of _anything _that would possibly allow anybody to smuggle him out of here or defeat Darth Cinerate? The New Republic doesn't seem to be coming, we're vastly outnumbered, and Cinerate doesn't trust anyone enough for me to help you _that_ much. He's dead no matter what happens."

"It doesn't matter," Organa Solo replied, steel in her voice. "We're not leaving without him."

"Alright." Lunara raised her eyebrows, knowing full well she would get nowhere. "What about your children? Are you planning to leave them without parents based on principle? Would that be moral?"

"It would be nothing short of criminal to leave him here after all he's done for us."

Lunara felt her lips thin. "Very well," she bit out. "If I think of a plan, I'll inform you. That's assuming, of course, that you're offering me a pardon and my freedom if we ever do make it back." She paused to see their reactions. They grimaced, but no one contradicted her.

"I'll check to see if you've changed your minds about Skywalker tomorrow." She turned and made to leave.

"Wait!" Horn called out.

Lunara turned. "Yes?"

"How did you sneak up on us when we were captured? Leia and I were using the Force to sense life, but we didn't detect you, even when we became aware of you."

Lunara smiled grimly. "Most members of the population on Xandra have been severely Force-drained by the Sith. They have so little Force energy as to be practically invisible, and the time you spent mingling with the population was, for lack of a better metaphor, like being thrown into the dark. Once you began nearing life again, your Force sense had to become used to life again. It's like suddenly being taken out of that darkness by a bright light shining into your eyes. You can't see well again until your eyes adjust."

With that, she deactivated the barrier and stepped out of the cell.


	15. Fatal Blow

Chapter 15: A Fatal Blow

* * *

A/N: Thank you to I Love Dance, Treenahasthaal, Forever-Luke, and Arya Of Ellesmera for reviewing!

* * *

Lunara Seras entered the tower room where the sacrifice would take place, the one with the silvery violet light pouring from the ceiling, shadows dancing in the candlelit room. It was the same room where Skywalker had been held earlier, drugged and tied to the same stone block that he was to die on.

_Probably_, she thought, _the Rebel scum are expecting me to follow through with some brilliant plan that would save all of our lives at the last minute._

But it was pretty clearly over. The New Republic forces hadn't arrived in time, and the best she could hope for would be to survive as long as possible, biding her time until maybe one day she had an opportunity to disappear.

She stood in front of a dark wall, elegantly inlaid with silver mineral to match the glass ceiling. The other Sith were beginning to take their places across the room. It wasn't long before the two Solos were brought in. Although they were blindfolded, with hands tied behind their backs, the prisoners still struggled in the helpless way that womp rats thrashed when they saw the rancor's mouth.

They were shoved over to the wall behind the stone block, midway between Lunara and the other Sith, and chained to the wall. Their blindfolds were taken off, and they blinked in the sudden flickering light.

They glanced towards her eventually, each look being met by an icy and indifferent stare. Lunara felt no need to comfort them, and would be putting herself at risk by doing so.

A few moments later, Luke Skywalker was brought into the room as well. He hadn't been blindfolded, but he had been electrocuffed and was surrounded by six armed Sith. His breathing was already labored from the climb up the winding tower steps, but Lunara was impressed at how much he had improved in the few short days of being left alone by Cinerate – not that it would ultimately matter.

He wasn't chained next to the others but merely stood up against the wall, blaster pressed against his neck.

Cinerate entered next, accompanied by a heavily muscled Sith Lunara recognized as Ronas Cirth. _What are they doing together? _Cinerate beckoned for her to join them in the center of the room, in front of the stone, and she unhesitatingly obliged. He then nodded to the Sith surrounding Skywalker, who marched the Jedi over, forced him onto the block of stone, and jabbed a needle into his arm to release him from the drugs that prevented Force use.

It was then that the ceiling exploded.

Shattered mauve glass rained down onto the room, harmlessly bouncing off the Sith that had managed to erect Force shields in time and embedding into ones who hadn't. To make matters worse, Jedi with activated lightsabers began to leap into the room.

Lunara didn't let indecision slow her down a single moment. She promptly turned and with a sweep of one of her lightsabers bisected the bindings on Skywalker. Continuing the smooth motion, she lunged with her twin lightsabers at the nearest Sith target, who happened to be Ronas Cirth. Now that the odds were about even, perhaps she could get out of the Cinerate plan after all.

Ronas's eyes, already widening as Skywalker rolled off the table, further filled with shock. For a moment, but he quickly rallied. His single lightsaber, a blaze of orange, matched her own two blades with harsh, powerful strokes.

The two Sith struggled with furious intensity. Lunara's booted feet were crushing glass with every footstep, but Ronas was similarly hampered. Still, Lunara wasn't worried yet. She had had a lot more experience in combat and would probably last longer.

Her entire mind was occupied with the attacks and parries, the stabs and ripostes, until she caught an image out of the corner of her eye. Her master was fleeing the tower. He jumped out one of the newly formed openings in the walls. Luke Skywalker, who had somehow gotten his hands on a Sith lightsaber, was stumbling towards him.

The insane Jedi was actually pursuing him!

Lunara's concentration slipped, and her opponent's blade grazed her side. She hissed in pain and followed Skywalker and Cinerate. "Catch me if you can, you kriffing blue Squib!" she called out as she used the Force to navigate her way down the long fall.

Snarling, Ronas pursued. Lunara took her eyes from the ground underneath her for just a moment to see that Skywalker had managed to summon up enough of the Force to save himself from being squashed, but not enough to prevent himself from falling to his knees as he hit the ground. Cinerate was going to slaughter him.

Lunara touched down softly a few moments later, stirring up some of the metallic dust. The windows of the tower she had jumped off were bright with clashing lightsabers, and the entire base was lit up with blaster fire and explosions, some from the dogfight up in the sky.

Ronas landed, and the duel commenced. Lunara began to fall into the dark spiral of the Force. She used her rage from the injury Ronas had inflicted on her, hate of Cinerate, and urgency to get to Skywalker, channeling her emotions into her footwork and lightsaber strikes as she felt her face twist into fury.

Ronas faltered a bit, falling back then rallying with his own power to match hers.

* * *

Luke Skywalker hit the ground with a painful jolt. He quickly pushed himself to his feet and gripped the stolen lightsaber, resuming his chase of Darth Cinerate, who was setting an impressive pace up the valley's sloping wall. Already a deep ache was seeping into his muscles, but he concentrated on the Force to keep himself moving.

He didn't know where they were going, as there was evidently no sign of civilization for kilometers, and he doubted that he could stop Cinerate from whatever he was planning. But he did know was that Cinerate couldn't be allowed to escape.

Luke had spent so much of the last couple months helplessly shot by bounty hunters, tortured as a prisoner of the Empire, and Force-drained nearly to the point of death. He had been carelessly tossed from enemy to enemy, unable to change his fate in the slightest way.

He had to take control of it now. Even if he died, he hadn't counted on living from the beginning. Luke knew that if it didn't end now, he wouldn't survive being a prisoner again, even if he escaped this particular obscure Sith sacrifice.

Without warning, Cinerate about-faced and ignited his lightsaber. Luke barely got up his own blade in time to block the jarring blow, and didn't have time to think before the second was coming.

The pain began to fade. He wielded the blazing lightsaber with a strange, cold, detachment. The Force's strong grasp moved him as he moved the lightsaber.

It wasn't enough.

After only a few minutes, the pain began to return as Cinerate upped the attack, battering down with his crimson blade. It seemed to be everywhere at once, forcing Luke back, pinning him down and giving him less and less room to maneuver.

Then the lightsaber slipped through Luke's defenses, leaving a long burn from his elbow to his shoulder. It wasn't any mistake that he had made – Luke simply didn't have the physical endurance to last.

But he had no other choice. Luke switched his blade to his other hand, and gathered his energy. Cinerate's attack pressed upon him again, and he desperately parried.

Cinerate was openly smirking now, malicious eyes taunting Luke as he employed the full power of the Force behind the next blow. Luke felt the lightsaber wrenched out of his hand a fraction of a second before Cinerate's entered his stomach.

His mouth opened in a silent gasp, as frozen agony spread out from the wound. He did not remember falling backwards, but he could taste the dry dust in his mouth and knew it was a mortal wound.

He could see Cinerate standing over him, lightsaber raised to deliver another blow. A woman that he didn't recognize appeared in the center of his rapidly darkening vision. Was she a hallucination? She planted her blade in Cinerate before he could stab Luke again.

As the Sith lord crumpled to the ground, the woman quickly dropped to her knees and gently placed a white hand on his chest. Luke felt healing energy trickle into him. He breathed out, feeling the life energy leave him far faster than he could be healed, and closed his eyes as he drifted away, into the Force . . . .

He felt soothing energy pouring into him, warming him and taking away the pain.

* * *

Jaina Solo finally spotted her mother among the wreckage. With a joyful shout, she clambered over some fragments of stone and embraced her around her middle.

"Where were you?" she asked Leia, slightly accusingly. "I've been calling you and calling you, but you didn't answer. Uncle Luke didn't either. Where is he, and where is Dad?"

Then she noticed the look her face.

"What is it?" Jaina was beginning to get a bit apprehensive. "Why aren't you talking to me?"

Leia cleared her throat. "Jaina," she began, giving her a grave look. "Your father is fine. But I'm afraid that Uncle Luke . . . isn't coming back."

"What do you mean, 'isn't coming back'?" Jaina asked, getting angry at her mother for being so vague. "_What _do you mean?"

Leia spoke again. Jaina could now see that her eyes were oddly swollen. "Jaina, didn't you feel it in the Force?"

"Feel what?"

Leia shook her head slowly, as if she was about to tell Jaina something terrible that she didn't want to understand but had to hear. "There was a surge in the Force," Leia said quietly. "Then he was gone."

"No," Jaina said, relieved. "He's still here. Is that why you think he's gone somewhere?" She watched a flicker of uncertainty alight in Leia's eyes. "Look!"

Luke Skywalker was standing behind them, next to a tall woman with reddish hair. He was covered from his chest down in blood, and there was a long rip in his shirt, but he was very much present, and very much alive.

Jaina watched her mother take a step towards Uncle Luke. "Luke?" she breathed, sadness rapidly fading from her eyes. "I thought you were dead!"

"He almost was," the woman told her. "Cinerate dealt him a fatal blow."

"Then how . . . ?" Leia's voice trailed off.

"I killed Cinerate. He had spent so much time draining the Force from Skywalker that he inadvertently created a bond. When Cinerate died, his life and Force energy were diverted to Skywalker, and it was enough to heal him."

"Then why couldn't I feel you?" Leia asked.

This time, Uncle Luke answered. "The drugs that they gave us blocked Force use, remember? I was given an antidote, but I expect it's still wearing off for you."

Jaina stepped in front of him and held up her arms. Uncle Luke picked her up, and she buried her face into his neck. "Ew," she said, moving her head back a bit. "You're dusty."

Leia finally grinned, lighting up her face with pure joy and relief. She leaned forward to hug him. "When we get back to Coruscant," she informed him, "I'm going to make Cracken to give you a vacation."

"Really?" Uncle Luke asked. Jaina thought his voice was somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

"After this, I think that even he will admit that you deserve one."

"You need one too," he responded. "I can't go anywhere without my favorite niece." Jaina smiled appreciatively and snuggled closer into his shoulder.

Leia shuddered. "When I get back, I have to see the damage that Borsk wreaked in the Senate. There's no way he's going to let me get away with a vacation!"

* * *

A/N: This is the end…but I might write an epilogue. If there's any scenes in particular that you'd like to see to close off the story, please let me know, no matter how specific or general. Thank you so much for reading my story!


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